


Shelter

by Spicyturnip4567



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Coffee Shops, Don't Judge Me, F/M, FP and Betty are besties, Gang Violence, Good guy Hiram, Jughead Jones Needs a Hug, POV Betty Cooper, Protective FP Jones II, Protective Jughead Jones, Southside Serpent Jughead Jones, Tropes, Unsafe Sex, Veronica is an angel, What Have I Done, clichés everywhere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 11:32:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16618175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spicyturnip4567/pseuds/Spicyturnip4567
Summary: It started on a Tuesday. Betty Cooper's life is turned upside down by a boy in a leather jacket with baby blue eyes.ORShameless coffee shop/serpent!Jug AU with cliche's everywhere. Sorry.





	Shelter

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for this fic. It started off as a silly lil coffee shop au, then I couldn't stop. I just needed an excuse to write Serpent Jughead. Sue me.  
> (SO there's a little bit of violence in this chapter. No blood or gore, but some parts may make people feel uncomfortable.)
> 
> Also, this is my first fic and it doesn't have a beta, so if you find any mistakes just let me know and I'll edit. Thanks!

 

For Betty, it started out as an average Tuesday.

_Alarm. Snooze. Alarm. Unwelcome and groggy consciousness._

Tiredness was a part of her general schedule now that college had started back up again, and today would be no exception. On Tuesdays she started off the day with an 8am lecture - her mother’s insistence on punctuality meant Betty had another ten minutes before her anxiety would get the better of her and force her into motion. As Betty listened, she could hear the quiet but unmistakable sound of Veronica’s keys as she shut the front door softly behind her. At some point or another, at a time of which eluded Betty, the black-haired girl had become her best and dearest friend, earning a place in Betty’s life at a time when she most desperately needed it. For all the times that Veronica appeared to be posh and haughty, she had a sharp eye and an intellect that challenged even Betty’s.

Stretching, Betty could feel the cold air as she wriggled her way out of the covers. She wanted to run - in fact, she was due for one. But the freezing temperatures of a New York winter had ways of stifling even the most keenly motivated individuals. A run would have to wait.

One coffee mug later and Betty was rushing out the door, bags in hand, fatigued but determined.

\-----------------

Betty’s chosen area of study was journalism - of course, an option that both her mother approved of and was, therefore, the path of least resistance. Despite Betty’s attempts to remove her mother’s oppressive influence on her life, her anxieties were constantly present, a weevil in her mind that had never truly been eradicated. Her mother’s strict regimen of diet, exercise, study, and social activities left Betty exhausted, with a feeling of emptiness that she couldn’t seem to shake. She felt strung out, like a puppet on a string whose strings were being pulled too tight. Never again did Betty want to feel out of control of her life. When Betty did leave, their relationship had been flaky at best. The scars on her hands from her own nails were now a distant memory, though, and Betty’s life was on the up. Alice had never really met Veronica, or Cheryl, or Fangs. She had a whole new life that was built from the ruins of her last one – and she was determined to make the most of it.

\-----------------

Betty was late. She was _late._

Betty was never late. She was glad of her decision to forgo her morning run, because she had missed her bus and was now hurtling down the laneway where the unassuming coffee shop laid in wait. Outside, Betty took a moment to compose herself and tuck her now unruly hair behind her ears. It wouldn’t do to have her boss pick up on her dishevelled state. The bell rung out when she finally opened the door, to an empty shop and Cheryl’s raised eyebrow.

“Well, someone didn’t check the time.” Cheryl snarked, lips pursed. 

Betty’s bit the side of her cheek in anxiety. “I’m sorry, Cheryl – is Fangs in?” Betty let out a sigh of relief when Cheryl shook her head no.

“Calm down, Betty, it’s only twelve minutes past three. What’s gotten your panties in a twist?” 

 _“Cheryl,”_ Betty felt her ears go red. “I just hate being late. I was a few seconds late for the bus and – well, I’m here, that’s all that matters. Has it been busy today?”

Cheryl eyed her. “No, not really, but apparently a few of Fang’s friend are – well, he’s invited them here for dinner tonight. You won’t be cooking, her said something about ordering pizza? But they’ll be here through your shift. Pity, if I’d known I would’ve swapped shifts with you.”

Betty sent a puzzled glance at the older girl as she proceeded to wipe down the coffee machine for afternoon service. “What? Why?”

Cheryl looked up from her nails. “Betty, do you not have eyes?”

She blinked.

Cheryl glanced heavenward and sighed as if explaining something to a small child. “Fangs is _hot._ Hot people hang around with more hot people. Get the gist?”

Betty snorted a laugh. She couldn’t deny that Fangs had a certain bad boy charm, but his boyish personality put Betty at ease in a way that she couldn’t categorize as anything more than friendly banter.

“I don’t go around making those kinds of assessments on people, Cheryl.” Betty managed to say through her smile.

“Bullshit,” Cheryl said with a grin, her eyes narrowing. “I’m willing to bet any money that at least one of his friends catches your eye tonight.”

Betty rolled her eyes, putting the spray bottle back down on the counter. “Okay…let’s say for amusements sake I do. I don’t bet money. So, what do you suggest, then?”

Cheryl tapped her nails rhythmically on the counter, a calculating expression on her perfect face. “Let’s make it bragging rights for a week. And you’ll owe me a hot fudge sundae from Pop’s down the street.”

Betty grinned. “You’re on.”

And so that was how Betty found herself in A Situation™.

Cheryl had left at four with a knowing smile and a “good luck,”. As a nervous Betty was busying herself by filling the display fridge, the front doorbell rang out at about six-thirty. It had gotten dark long before now, being winter, and the going down of the sun made the outside chill that much more obvious. Betty shivered with the sudden breeze. Momentarily halting her efforts, Betty glanced up to find Fangs’ familiar smile and a big wave.

“Hey, Betty! Good to see you!”

“Hey, Fangs. It’s good to see you, too.” Betty returned with a genuine smile, but it wasn’t until then she noticed four more figures behind Fangs - though in the soft light she couldn’t make out their faces. All dressed similarly, leather jackets hugging their bodies tightly. Dark hair framed their sombre faces, and a thought occurred to Betty.

_They look – are they related?_

“Betty, these are my friends from way back. This is Joaquin, Sweetpea, Toni, and Jughead." Each figure waved as their respective names were called.

"Sorry to not give you any notice, but we’ll just have a bite to eat before we go back.” Fangs continued, unaware of Betty's internal analysis, and she startled, turning back to him, flushing slightly.

“Hi, everyone. If you need anything I’ll just be behind the counter.” She smiled and waved back politely. Fangs sent her another grin and turned on his heel, ushering everyone to a corner at the back of the café. 

Later, when they were settled, the smell of pizza wafting through the shop, Betty was nearly finished her shift. From her position behind the counter Betty had quietly studied the group, and to her regret Cheryl was right. They were all incredibly beautiful to look at – even the man they called _Sweetpea,_ Jesus. One by one Betty studied each person, realising that while yes, they did appear to be related, each one had unique features that made it difficult to determine who was the most beautiful.

That was, until Betty’s eyes fell on the last man - a dark grey beanie in the shape of a crown rested on his head, still in place even in the warmth of the shop. The tanned skin of his face was smooth, unblemished, and was broken only by his pale lips, frozen in a firm line. His dark eyes were focussed, hard, and even from her far away hiding place, Betty could see his evident exhaustion. But his tan skin and black hair made Betty’s stomach twist – he was the most striking man she’d ever seen. Betty brought a hand up to her lips, tapping them as she watched him. 

The female - Toni, Betty remembered – stood up so suddenly that Betty’s anxiety warped in her stomach and she quickly dropped her gaze to the counter. Footsteps came toward Betty and she looked up, heart in her chest. The other girl had simply gone to the bathroom. Betty shook herself off and checked the time – 8:03pm. Her shift officially ended at 8, and she would miss the bus if she didn’t hurry. Shucking her apron off, she hurried around the back to hang it up and clock off. Gathering her school bag and phone off the counter, she made herself walk calmly back out the front, past the counter, where Toni was apparently waiting for her. Betty wrung her hands.

“Sorry, Toni, I didn’t realise you were waiting. Can I help?”

Toni merely shrugged her petite shoulders and grinned.

“Fangs wanted to know if you were hungry, there’s heaps of pizza and he’d feel guilty if you didn’t eat.”

Betty let out a tiny grin back - Toni’s laid-back attitude infectious. Betty’s thoughts became less about the bus schedule when her stomach growled, liking the idea of some food. She nodded shyly, and the other girl led the way to where the group was sitting. The soft lighting made Betty feel more at ease. Fangs smiled as she sat down at the table opposite Jughead.

“I see the temptation for pizza won out?”

Betty let out a small huff of laughter as he handed her a slice of pepperoni. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Everyone, this is Betty. Sorry I didn’t introduce you properly earlier, Betty, we had some…well, we had some catching up to do.” Fangs glanced across the table before looking away, quickly.

Betty swallowed, nerves creeping back at Fangs tone, but she tamped them down. “So, how long have you guys known each other?”

Toni perked up at the question. “Well, Sweetpea, Jughead and I have known each other since birth. We’re like siblings. But Fangs and Juaquin we’ve known for some years now, too.”

Sweetpea eyed Toni. “That’s right, and I’m the oldest so I’m technically your big brother.” He puffed up, grinning.

Betty grinned back in mirth before taking another bite of her pizza. She self consciously chewed, feeling silly for being the odd one out in the group, but wanted to be polite to these new people that seemed so casual and laid-back. The chatter continued, Betty nodding and answering where it was needed around small bites of her pizza. She was enjoying their company, but couldn't shake the worry that she had missed her bus -  _how would she get home now?_ The longer she sat there, the more anxious she felt.

It didn't help that Jughead was sitting opposite her. He had been silent for the most part, eyes following the conversation. She wanted to stare at him openly, because up this close she could see his long, beautiful eyelashes and icy blue eyes. She was hyper aware of his presence and knew if she looked at him for more than a few seconds she would embarrass herself. _Be cool, Betty, be cool._

Once, she looked up, and his dark gaze was levelled directly at her. She felt her heart stop at his intense stare, hard and unyielding, but the softness of his eyes made a warmth in her belly mingle with the panic. She felt hot, suddenly,  _too hot._ She wanted to get out of here, she wanted to _think._ Her cheeks stained pink and she felt the tell-tale warmth of a blush coming on. She glanced at her watch – 8:42pm. Way too late for the last bus of the night. Panic began to swell in her chest. Veronica, she knew, had a night class at 9 and would not be able to pick her up. Maybe Archie? But, she didn’t have his number. She wanted to reach for her phone, but was now so aware of her movements that she felt silly in her own skin. She fumbled through her bag, flustered simply by Jughead’s gaze.

Fangs, who was animatedly chatting to Toni, glanced her way and ceased the conversation. “Sorry, Betty, I honestly forgot you’d be wanting to get home.” He frowned.

Betty instantly felt guilty at her apparent awkwardness. “No, it’s okay, its only – I have another early class tomorrow. Thank you for the pizza. I’ll see you tomorrow then?” She rushed to address Fangs.

Fangs frowned again, “Sure, and no problem. See you then, Betty.”

She waved and murmured goodbyes to the rest of the table, honestly glad of their company for the night, but dread filling her stomach at the thought of walking home alone. _Her apartment was only 6 blocks away, maybe she could –_

“Hey girl, wait up. Do you have a ride home?” Toni called to her, interrupting her exit out the door.

Betty hesitated. She didn’t know these people, but if it meant a safer ride home than walking, she would gladly take it. She shook her head timidly, embarrassed, and Toni tutted.

“You can’t walk home alone in this city. Someone like you ought to know that.”

Betty looked up to find Fangs nodding.

“Someone like me?” Betty blinked.

Toni rolled her eyes. “Never mind. Where you headed?”

Toni was so beautiful and intimidating that Betty shrank into herself, unsure.

“6 blocks north.” She murmured. The dark hair girl, glancing back at the group, shrugged her shoulders once and turned back to speak to Betty.

“The two of us are heading back that way. You should come with us.”

Betty found herself nodding. “Only if its no trouble.”

Toni grinned then, gesturing to someone at the table. Jughead stood up, grabbing a coat from the back of his chair, shrugging it onto his shoulders. Betty was too shy to meet his eyes again – she knew herself, and if she let herself stare it would be insanely embarrassing for both parties. Instead, she looked down at the floor. The floor was _safe._ She liked the floor.

Thankfully, she was spared from any embarrassment when they both appeared to casually saunter out the door, bell ringing obnoxiously, and Jughead only stopping to politely hold the door open for Betty when she followed. She tried not to swoon at the gesture, in that it was perfectly _normal_ to hold doors open for people - but couldn’t seem to stop the thrill from threading its way slowly up her spine. The man hadn’t spoken a word to her, and yet she couldn’t help but feel tug in her gut that she struggled to identify.

The car, a pale pickup truck, was old and tired but Betty could see where the car had been loved – new tyres underneath the fading fenders, the old dents and scratches in the tray that gave character to the car, and the way it so smoothly purred to life -

Remembering herself, glanced over at Toni, still on the sidewalk as Jughead took his place in the driver’s seat.

“Sorry Betty, I’ll take the middle seat since we’re dropping you off.”

Betty smiled. “Sure. I just hope this isn’t too much of a bother.”

Toni raised an eyebrow. “We aren’t animals. I know what the city’s like. We both do.”

And with that she scooted across the brown leather seat until there was room enough for Betty to squish in, wondering what was meant by that.

Betty felt the engine rev with the tell-tale sounds of shifting gears, and they were off.

\-------------------

The first time Betty had met Jughead, he hadn’t said a word. When they had arrived at her apartment, the car ride filled with idle chatter from both girls, Toni had offered a warm goodbye and a smile. Jughead had offered a small wave, his blue eyes intently following her form till she passed the glass security door and was inside, safe.

She watched them drive away with anxious eyes. Something that had caught her eye was nagging at her. In the truck, she’d had time to study Jughead in the dark without being seen.

She had watched the way his long fingers tapped idly at the gear shift. 

The way his mouth seemed to tug down at the corners, like he carried the world on his shoulders. 

The way he’d pushed the sleeves up of his jacket, revealing the snake tattoo that was burned deep into the soft skin of his forearm. When she’d spied it, it had her fascinated. It was so striking, so prominent on his otherwise unmarked skin, and she’d wondered about its significance.

But it was late, and she was tired. She was overthinking things.

\-------------------

Betty woke, once again, to the sound of her alarm piercing through the veil of her well needed sleep. Mornings, for Betty, always provided the clarity of mind – but she refused to overthink the social awkwardness from last night, internally cringing for just a moment.

Unlike Tuesdays, Wednesdays she started off the day with a 9am class on Policies and Laws of Media. For her, it was simple, and allowed her brain to ease into the day. She looked forward to it.

Unfortunately for her now, though, she had to run. Glancing down at her toes (covered in socks with little kittens) she stretched her legs before flinging off the remainder of her blankets to face the cold air. Goosebumps dotted her skin angrily at the intrusion. Stripping off her nightshirt and slipping on a tight black top with long sleeves, it occurred to her that Veronica might be up to take a run with her. Slipping on her grey tights and running shoes, she swiped her keys off the desk before leaving.

In the living room, Veronica was seated on the ridiculous designer brown leather couch that reminded Betty of a Midwestern movie scene. In her hand was a steaming mug of black coffee, which Betty knew would be scorching when Veronica took her first sip, wincing.

“Morning, B, off for a run I see?”

“Hey V. Yeah, the calories won’t burn themselves. You didn’t want to join me?” Betty yawned.

Veronica sighed, hunching her shoulders and expression guilty. “I know I should, but I got home late from Archie’s last –“

Betty held up a hand, smiling fondly. “It’s alright, V. If anything, I’m a little jealous of how well things are going for you two.”

She waggled her eyebrows at Veronica, while Veronica snorted.

“There’s always a spare treadmill down there anyway, if you change your mind.” Betty finished, waving as she grabbed her headphones and made her way out the door, Veronica singing a goodbye behind her.

Betty chose to skip down the stairs rather than opt for the elevator. It was a decent warmup before her plod along the treadmill in the gym room downstairs. She could feel the warmth seeping into her tired muscles, one step at a time. The gym door was open, as always, by 6am. Checking her watch, Betty figured she had at least half an hour to kill with her workout before she would need to start her morning commute to Columbia.

_You need to grab breakfast, Betty, don’t forget this time._

Pressing the tiny orange start button on the fanciest treadmill machine she had ever had the pleasure of using, she started running. It wasn’t long before the monotony began seeping in, and her mind began to unwind, allowing the pounding of her feet to dampen her anxiety and slow her racing thoughts. Last night’s event’s –

No. She wouldn’t think about it now. Just picturing their faces made her stomach muscles tense with anticipation, of their easy conversations and their beautiful faces, particularly _Jughead…_ his hard, penetrating gaze that made her insides –

 _NO._ Betty sighed. It seemed as if today’s workout would be a moot point, because the tug that she felt when she remembered those icy blue eyes had her in a tizzy and made warmth flood her cheeks.

Wait.

_Wait._

Did she have a crush? She stopped short, the treadmill whirring on, forgotten. _Shit._

\------------------

“Veronica, I haven’t even spoken to this guy! What is going on? He hasn’t said a word!” Betty burst out as soon as she found herself back in the apartment, running shoes thrown off in a huff.

Veronica, startled, dropped whatever she had been holding (a spatula, going by the smell of eggs wafting through the place) and whirled on Betty.

“B, what? What’s going on?” Veronica eyed her friend with an expression that indicated Betty had sprouted a second head, but gestured for Betty to sit. Betty sat down, the overly plush leather too comfortable under her skin. Betty was on edge.

“Okay, so there may have been a few of my boss’s friends over last night. And there may have been a very nice-looking – um, person there who may have been a..little good looking? But he didn’t say a word to me, but I have this weird feeling in my gut when I think of his eyes. Is that weird? Please tell me I’m just hormonal and this is a normal thing that happens?”

The black-haired girl let out a long sigh and her sharp eyes homed in on Betty’s panicked ones. “Betty, you think this guy is good-looking. That’s not a crime, is it? When was the last time you liked someone?”

Betty shrugged, face scrunching up. “Uh, senior year?”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, I’m living with a _nun_ and a _drama queen._ Oh! I know, I want to see what this guy looks like. What’s his name? Wait, you do know his name, right?”

Betty inhaled slowly through her nose. “Yes, his name is Jughead. What are you…are you searching him on Facebook?” Betty groaned.

Veronica raised one eye, ignoring the question. “What the hell kind of name is Jughead?”

Betty winced. “May I remind you that I have the name of an 80-year-old nana who sounds like she feeds unsuspecting children cookies and milk.”

Veronica shot another doubtful look at Betty. “I can’t find him. With a name like Jughead you’d think he’d show up right away. Is it a nickname?”

Betty made a whining noise. “God, V, I don’t even know his real name.”

Veronica dropped her phone on the couch, sighing dramatically, and waltzed over to where Betty was perched on the edge of the chaise.

“Betty, calm down. Chances are you’re going to see him again, and while I know you haven’t got the best social skills, it sounds like he may be a truly mysterious and brooding male specimen. So, you need to brush this off, go to school, learn things, and then come back to the apartment before your shift tonight. You start at three again, yes?”

Betty nodded, a destitute feeling seeping into her mind.

“Come back for a quick pep talk beforehand. Wait, even better – I’ll meet you there! That way I get to see him. Don’t worry, I’ll be a fly on the wall.”

With each passing moment Veronica looked more pleased with herself. Betty decided not to fight it. This probably wouldn’t lead anywhere, and either way, it would be good to have her best friend there when she would certainly humiliate herself in front of Jughead. She hugged Veronica mutely and fluttered to her room for a quick shower. Shutting the door, Betty resolutely decided that she would make a bit more effort with her appearance than normal.

After her shower, she stared hard at herself in the mirror. A touch of concealer and mascara couldn’t hurt, could it? She applied her favourite lip colour and took another moment to double check her appearance before she left for the day. Not amazing, but it would have to do. Her eight o’clock bus ride took her straight to campus, where she headed to the massive lecture hall that stood out against the overcast sky. Two flights of stairs and she was where she needed to be. Taking a deep breath, she clutched her bag and walked into the lecture.

Time to focus.

\-------------------

The moment Betty stepped off the bus, she was hyper-aware of every limb as she walked the half mile to the coffee shop. Her pale blue jeans did nothing for warmth, and she rubbed her hands together, trying to keep them from going cold. She hoped that it was just Cheryl today, because even though she was on time, she didn’t feel like she could face Fangs’ friendly smile when she felt so glum. Of course, she had overthought every possible situation on the bus ride here, which strung her out and made her heart beat a little faster. She hoped that Jughead wasn’t here, either, so that Veronica might not push the situation. Betty was uncomfortable already.

The bell rung, signalling her entry, and her stomach sank when she realised Fangs was actually working today, his white apron looking silly on his otherwise black outfit. She internally winced but raised her hand in a small wave.

“Hey, Fangs.” She gave him a small smile as he nodded at her, before she turned to grab her apron off the hook by the staff room door. “Where’s Cheryl today?”

Fangs gave her a small smile, finishing off his customers takeaway latte before turning around and addressing her fully.

“Hey Betty. She’s called in sick, her roommate gave her the flu. She sounded awful on the phone.”

Betty winced. “The poor thing. Do you think she’d take to me swinging by later with some soup?”

Fangs, grabbing the cloth to wipe down tables, gave her a funny look, making Betty uneasy. “What?”

Fangs huffed a laugh. “No, nothing, it’s just…that’s a nice thought. I’m sure she’d love that.”

Betty perked up. Cheryl was quickly becoming one of her favourite people, and although her and Veronica had only met once, the friendship chemistry was instantaneous, and the three girls had gotten along great. Betty made her way out the back, sending off a quick text to Cheryl, saying she’d pop round after her shift. She then sent another to Veronica, telling her not to come to the shop this afternoon, because Jughead was a no-show. Throwing her phone in her bag and clocking on, she walked back around to the front before she went into an abrupt cardiac arrest.

Fangs was over by the front door, gesturing someone inside. And that someone was Jughead. Well, _okay,_ it was Jughead and the guy they called Sweetpea. But it had taken her a moment to register anyone once she spied the grey beanie, and fought down the muddle of feelings threatening her sanity.

Inside, now, Jughead gave her a wave, icy blue eyes unblinking. Sweetpea turned to see who he had addressed and brightened, waving and gave Betty a half smile before sitting down in one of the corner tables. Jughead followed suite, breaking eye contact first and shucking off his coat. Betty remembered that breathing was a thing that needed to happen. Inhaling as quietly as she could, she turned around to grab the cleaning cloth for the coffee machine.

She made herself busy, trying to forget their presence in the corner. It was only a few minutes later that Fangs joined her once again, placing more fresh muffins into the display with a tiny pair of tongs that looked ridiculous in his large hands.

“Betty, is something the matter?” There was no mistaking his tone, even as he whispered the words. He knew that she was crushing on his friend. _Oh no_.

Betty gulped. “What? What do you mean?” She whispered back, eyes panicked.

Fangs let out a full chuckle, almost dropping the blueberry muffin but tightened his grip on the tongs at the last second.

“Betty, I’m really sorry. But you’ve been about the colour of that red velvet cake since they walked in.”

Betty felt herself flush even harder in mortification. “I don’t like either of them. I swear. They’re just intimidating.”

The lie felt strange on her tongue, but she thought it might’ve sounded reasonable despite Fangs’ spot-on observation. Fangs’ expression hardened, though, quite suddenly, and he let out a sigh. “Sorry, Betty. You don’t need to worry about them – I trust them. They’re good people.”

Betty felt guilty immediately. The truth was she wasn’t intimidated by their dark jackets, tattoos, or their hard-ass exteriors. In fact, she liked the way they were so carefree and relaxed – well, from what she saw last night, anyway. The only person she found intimidating was Jughead, and that was for…different reasons.

She swallowed again, mouth dry.

“No, sorry Fangs, I didn’t mean that. It’s just, I wish I could be as relaxed as you guys meeting new people.”

Fangs gave her a long look, before nodding, cheerful expression flooding his face again, and he clicked his tongue. 

“You made a good impression from what I hear.”

Betty’s interest was piqued again. “Oh?”

But she was interrupted by another customer. _Damn it_.

\--------------------------

When Jughead and Sweetpea left, it was the first time Betty had heard Jughead speak.

She had watched him walk over to the counter, jacket clutched in his hand, with Sweetpea trailing behind him. She gave him a wobbly, nervous smile and in response he raised one side of his mouth in a devastating half smile.

“Have you got a ride home today?” His smooth tenor did something funny to Betty’s insides.

Betty nodded quickly. “Yeah. I’ve got the bus today.” She managed and frowned slightly when he made an unhappy noise in the back of his throat.

He was frowning now, but nodded his acceptance and made to walk away.

“Be safe.” He said quietly, so quietly she wasn’t sure she even heard it. Sweetpea waved jovially, and Betty felt rude having ignored his presence. But she had an excuse. It was hard to concentrate when all her insides had apparently liquified.

\--------------------------

Lucky for Betty, there was a Chinese place that looked decent enough that was walking distance from Cheryl’s apartment. One order of chicken and sweet corn soup later and she was standing outside the pristine white door of the Blossom girl’s apartment.

Having knocked, she waited for the tell-tale signs of movement. She was rewarded.

Footsteps, followed by the door swinging open, revealed Cheryl’s roommate Josie. Now Josie, bless her, was a force to be reckoned with. At the best of times, Betty found herself overwhelmed by the diva’s strong personality, but she didn’t altogether dislike the girl. She was just an in-small-doses kind of person.

“Hey Josie, I was wondering if Cheryl was feeling up to some soup?” Betty held up the warm plastic bag.

“She’s just in her room. I’ll go see if she’s awake. Come in.” Josie eyed Betty’s outfit, raising an eyebrow. Betty didn’t let it get to her – Josie was known for her expensive tastes, and although it seemed that Betty was surrounded by wealthy friends, she never grew up in the same league.

Betty stepped into the warm room, sighing as she felt the heat leech back into her bones. She kept her jacket on though – she probably wouldn’t stay long. Josie came back, shaking her head.

“She’s asleep and I don’t want to wake her, sorry. She was up all last night coughing.”

Betty nodded, smiling at Josie. “That’s fine. I just wanted to make sure she was alright. Tell her I stopped by, and that she won the bet.” Betty huffed a laugh.

Josie took the soup out of Betty’s hands and placed it on the counter, giving her an odd look.

“Sure, no problem. I’ll see you next time, Betty.”

Betty nodded, the dismissal making her smile.

The bus from Cheryl’s place to hers would take her only one block away from her building, but it was packed. She was forced to stand, cramped into the space between the closing doors and an older man who smelled of cigarettes. She didn’t mind. The trip wouldn’t take long. _Hopefully._

When the doors opened it was like a breath of fresh air after the staleness of inside the bus. She checked her bag, ignoring the icy sting of the cold and began the short walk back to her building. She could see where her building’s lights illuminated the pavement. _Almost home._

But then the hair stood up on the back of her neck and her skin prickled when she became aware of the footsteps behind her.

Trying to be as casual as possible, she glanced behind her and quickened her pace when she realised it was a man, who’s black eyes were levelled right at her. It wasn’t anyone she recognised from her building and she hadn’t seen him on the bus, which meant he had to have been taking a nice late-night stroll …or…

Another hundred metres and she would be home. The man couldn’t have been more than twenty metres behind her, boots tapping against the concrete, so unlike the soft footfalls of her white converse. She got her keys out ready to make a quick entry, when the sound of sudden laughter made her jump. In front of her building, a taxi had stopped to let out a group of people. She relaxed a fraction, but her stomach was doing weird flips and her breaths became shallower.

Glancing one more time behind her, she almost stopped short. The man was gone.

This did nothing to lessen her unease. Rushing and fumbling to get the key in the security door, she turned it once and she was inside, the door clicking shut behind her. She could breathe. She was safe.

Betty used the elevator ride to calm her frazzled nerves and get it together before Veronica saw her in a state and would assume the worst. The man had been strange, and creepy, but nothing untoward had happened and Betty felt she had overreacted. Once she had entered the apartment and thrown her shoes in the general direction of the shoe rack, she greeted Veronica with a tired smile and an excuse that she was exhausted from the day.

Veronica narrowed her eyes but had accepted the excuse, telling her to get some rest. Betty finally fell into bed at 9:46pm, eyes drifting shut and anxiety still swirling in her stomach.

\------------------------

Thursdays were Betty’s sleep in days. She drifted awake to the sound of Veronica knocking on her door, and she glanced at her phone that blinked 8:12am back at her. She rubbed her eyes, knowing that she had forgotten to take yesterday’s mascara off before she had fallen in a heap.

“Come in.” She said through a yawn.

Veronica looked a little guilty that she had woken Betty up, but she held two mugs in her hand that Betty could only assume was coffee, and she instantly perked up.

“Thanks, V, I needed this.”

She moaned after taking the first sip. Veronica knew how Betty liked it – milk frothy and a little hint of vanilla.

Veronica sat down on the edge of Betty’s bed, looking concerned. “Was everything okay last night? You looked a bit flustered when you came in. I’m just checking up on you.”

Veronica jokingly patted the hair down on Betty’s head, but her eyes were serious. Betty sobered up instantly.

“Yeah, I think…I think I just overreacted. When I got off the bus, there was a man I thought was looking at me and following me to our building. It gave me the creeps. But when I got close he vanished, I think maybe because there were more people around. I’m just not sure.”

Veronica frowned hard, hand flying to her mouth, tapping it in anxiety. “Betts, that’s not funny. You should have told me last night! You didn’t overreact. Please, tell me next time something happens. In fact, why don’t we let security know?”

Betty sighed. “If you say so, V, but I really just think I overreacted.”

Veronica shook her head vehemently. “No. Girls have to stick together when shit like this happens. I’ll call Daddy later and ask him to warn security about any more future incidents.”

Betty frowned, mulling it over. Maybe she hadn’t overreacted?

Veronica sighed. “Either way, I want to come hang out at the coffee shop again today. I know Cheryl won’t be there cause she’s sick and all, but I don’t have any classes till tonight and it’s been ages since we’ve spent the day together.”

Betty felt a surge of affection for her friend, nodding gratefully. “I’d really like that. I start at 12 today, but I might have to work late to cover Cheryl.”

Veronica hummed thoughtfully. “I wonder if Jughead will be there this time.”

Unfortunately for Betty, Veronica felt the tensing of her shoulders and let out a delighted giggle. “I knew it. Did you see him yesterday?”

“He came into the shop for a bit, then asked if I had a ride home.”

“Oh my god Betty, and you didn’t say no, did you?”

“I said I had the bus?”

Veronica smacked her hand against her forehead with a loud whack, making Betty roll her eyes.

“I should’ve been there. You’re _useless.”_

Betty laughed at her friends dramatic antics.

“Oh, I did well enough to just speak to the guy. He’s like a living, breathing James Dean.” Betty pretended to swoon. “Seriously, though, I think I may have to quit my job.”

Veronica stood up. “Get yourself presentable. I’ll make you some breakfast before we head out. I need to meet this guy.” She said with mirth in her eyes.

Betty mock saluted before taking another sip of her coffee.

\-------------------------------

A little over an hour later and Betty found herself in a shiny black sedan, being driven by Veronica’s chauffeur. Betty had always been uncomfortable with how Veronica made it look normal to be driven places by a chauffeur, but when the ride was quick and there were no peculiar bad smells that the usual bus ride entailed, Betty wasn’t about to say no. Both girls were sitting in comfortable silence, giving each other knowing glances when they reached the corner of the laneway.

“Thank you, James, once again. I’ll let you know when I need you next.” Veronica said with a cool air of authority Betty had never heard her use among friends. It was an odd look on her.

Betty made to get out, holding the door open for Veronica to wiggle her way out. They both stretched out, before Veronica strode with purpose to the doors of the coffee shop, an unsure Betty trailing behind.

Jughead wasn’t there, at first, but Veronica had taken to Fangs like a fish to water. His jovial, teasing personality meshed perfectly with her sly, mischievous one, and they became friends almost instantly. Betty had rolled her eyes at the antics of the two black haired individuals, clocking in and starting her long, arduous shift.

She made Veronica a coffee, chatting to her to pass the time, and by the time three o’clock rolled around, her patience was rewarded when the chime of the bell sounded. Betty, busy with cleaning a particularly stubborn section of grime from the coffee machine, didn’t look up to the sound of Veronica’s cough. She did, however, look up when she heard Veronica speak.

“Ah, so you must be Jughead?” Veronica was leaning against the counter, faux casual, and Betty’s heart leapt in her throat when she saw the man himself at the counter, bag slung over one shoulder and beanie fixed firmly on his head.

Jughead looked confused, but replied “That’s me,” before fixing his gaze on Betty, who was gripped in a sudden bout of debilitating paralysis, eyes wide and face frozen.

Veronica, the angel that she was, recognised Betty’s state in less than half a second and continued speaking to Jughead, forcing his gaze back to her. It gave Betty time to retreat out the back, take a deep breath, check her hair in the mirror – _disaster_ – and pep herself up. She was going to act normal, she was going to ask how his day was because she was a _normal_ human who could _say things._ She walked towards the door, semi-confident again.

Jughead was leaning across the counter, perched on his elbows when she came back around the front, clad only in a white t-shirt that displayed more of his smooth, tan skin than she was altogether comfortable with. Whatever she was about to say was lost instantly.

He cleared his throat, gaze piercing as he gave her a soft smile. “Did you end up getting home okay last night?”

Glancing sidelong at Veronica, she managed to find her voice.

“Yeah, I got home alright.” She said quietly, smile threatening to break out onto her face - but heard Veronica make a sound of disagreement, tutting.

“Yeah, right, that’s if you don’t count creepy men lurking around bus stops late at night.” She drawled, unhappy with Betty’s version of events.

Jughead straightened, eyes narrowing and smile dropping.

“What?” His tone was flat, and it made Betty cringe and wring her hands. Veronica raised her eyebrows at Betty, but seeing that she wasn’t going to clarify, continued.

“A man followed her from the bus stop to the building. Apparently, he gave up when he saw other people around. Don’t worry though, I’ve let security know and they know what to look out for.”

Jughead was silent. He stared at Veronica, who met his gaze with a question in her eyes. Then he turned and set his stare on Betty, who flushed a light pink and internally cursed her pale skin. She saw him take a deep breath and saw, out of the corner of her eye, how his hand unclenched from the counter to which he was holding. He flexed it once.

“Will you two need a ride home tonight? I’d rather take you both than have you ride the bus when there’s …people like that on the loose.” His voice was calm, but Betty couldn’t meet his intense gaze for any more than a few seconds at a time.

Veronica, at this, looked guilty. “I was going to drive Betty home, but my boyfriend Archie is picking me up at four. I’m sorry Betty, I meant to tell you.”

Betty shrugged. “That’s okay, V, I didn’t expect you to hang around here all day while I work. No matter how entertaining Fangs is.”

Veronica chuckled at this and agreed.

“So, it’s settled then. Until you feel more comfortable taking the bus again, Betty, I can drive you home. If that’s alright with you?” Jughead said smoothly, eyes searching her face.

Betty nodded once, fiddling with her necklace and gave Jughead an appreciative smile. He visibly relaxed before smiling in return, and with a ‘see you’ wave to Veronica, he sauntered back over to his table, where his computer lay open, screen bright.

Betty turned to Veronica, who looked like she would squeal at any minute.

“Girl, be fucking thankful I just set that up for you now. Archie was never going to pick me up – because really, I wouldn’t leave you to go home by yourself! But now lover boy is taking you home…and you’ll be… _alone…”_ Veronica waggled her eyebrows suggestively, grinning as Betty felt herself go from pink to an unattractive shade of red.

Veronica laughed loudly, as if Betty had said something hilarious, and then went serious.

“But on a serious note, you trust this guy, right? Or did I just set up a nightmare for you?”

Betty reached for her friends’ hand, giving it a squeeze. “I trust him. I promise.”

Veronica beamed. “Good. You owe me one.”

Betty grumbled. It seems she was starting to owe a few people.

\--------------------------------

Veronica left just before four, Archie dropping in to say a quick hello to Betty before the pair scrambled off, both with beaming smiles on their faces.

But this left Betty alone with Jughead. Fangs, having left to go get something decent to eat before he started the night shift, was due back at five when Betty was supposed to go home. Having completed all the cleaning she could, she finally relaxed, back to the counter, and stretched out her protesting neck muscles. She probably needed a massage. She stiffened again when she heard the creak of a chair, followed by footsteps. She made herself turn around and face Jughead, one on one, and fought hard against the hammering of her heart and the turmoil in her stomach.

“Long day?” Jughead asked, eyes lingering on her neck. She brought a hand up to it, massaging it absentmindedly.

“You could say that. I didn’t have classes, so I guess it worked out well that Cheryl was sick today.”

“Classes? What are you studying?” He leaned forward on the counter again, expression softening unexpectedly.

She inhaled. “Journalism. Not my first choice, but it’s a good fit for me.”

He made a non-committal sound and tilted his head. “Is it what you wanted?”

Betty stared at him, caught off guard. No-one had asked that of her before. She tilted her head, considering. “I suppose. I’m not sure.”

This answer made him frown. She rushed to explain. “I like writing, I do, it’s just. My mother is a journalist, so, following in her footsteps I guess.”

Betty still remembered the day she had confided in her mother that she wanted to study creative writing – to be an author. Her mother had scoffed, making Betty feel worse than the ground beneath her feet. “ _Authors make next to no money, Betty. Polly studied law, and look where she is now!”_

Betty dropped his gaze and bit her lip, not liking where this conversation was going. “So, Jughead, what were you doing all day on that computer?” She diverted, although she was genuinely interested in the answer.

He looked back at the laptop on his table, seemingly thrown for a moment, before turning back to her, not meeting her eyes.

“Uh, I write.”

“What?” She blurted.

He frowned, then, glancing up at her.

“I write.” He repeated, blowing out a breath she wasn’t aware he had been holding.

“You write?” She asked in a disbelieving tone, her mother’s comment flying through her head again. His hand went up to his head, as if to run his fingers through his hair, but seemed to catch himself at the last minute and put it back down. He met her eyes again, confusion seeping into his expression.

“Is that so hard to believe?” He questioned.

“No, its just…what are you writing?” She probed, knowing this conversation wasn’t going as planned. Her stomach twisted again in that familiar way.

His frown ceased for a moment. “I’m writing a biography of my home town and the events that occurred there.” His tone was final, not indicating that it was something he wanted to talk about.

Betty, wide eyed, felt a tug in her chest that made it hard for her to take another breath in.

“That’s amazing.” She whispered. _At least he’s brave enough to follow his dreams, Betty, you’re too pathetic to even try_.

Anxiety got the better of her and giving Jughead a hasty, watery smile, she took a few steps back and turned around for a retreat into the store room. She took one calming breath after another, but all she could think about was how Jughead probably thought she was a freak with social issues. _God._

“Are you alright?”

Betty squeaked unattractively, jumping and moving to clutch her chest.

“Oh my god, Jug, you scared me. Jesus.” She took another deep breath. She hadn’t even heard him follow her around the counter.

His face stayed impenetrable, lips in a hard line, as he stared at her. She realised that the nickname had slipped out without her knowledge, and she tensed, internally berating herself at just how bloody awkward she was. But instead, she saw his lip curve up in a half-smile, doing utterly devastating things to her heart rhythm, and she relaxed minutely, smiling back and huffing out a laugh.

“I’m sorry if I seemed a bit short out there. I don’t tell many people that I write.” He said, still smiling.

She shook her head, blinking. “No, it was me, I’m…” She took a deep breath. “I wanted to write, when I was younger. Be an author, I mean. But my mother didn’t think that was a very good idea.” She said it with forced light-heartedness, struggling to keep her smile in place. “I envy you.”

His smile dropped a little, and his eyes bored into hers. He seemed to sense, though, that it was a touchy subject and took a step back. He went to say something else, but was interrupted by the bell. A half second later, she heard the front door click shut softly.

“Betty? You still here?” Fangs called out.

Betty struggled to clear her throat. “Y-yeah, just out the back!” She called back.

Jughead broke her gaze, finally, and strode back around the front, Betty following in tow. When Fangs saw Jughead, he looked confused. When he saw Betty, he looked concerned.

“Um, you alright, Betty?” He asked, glancing at Jughead questioningly before his eyes returned to Betty, looking her up and down. She huffed out a laugh, her nervousness getting the better of her again, making her feel silly.

“Y-yeah, Fangs, Jughead just killed a spider for me.” She stammered out, looking from Jughead, who looked amused, back to Fangs.

Fangs’ face cleared at this as he laughed and rolled his eyes. “Betty Boop, scared of a little daddy long-legs.” He teased, then flinched when Jughead made to swipe at his ear.

“Shut-up, Fangs.” He grumbled out, grin on his face, but that only made Fangs laugh harder. 

Betty was wide-eyed as she giggled despite herself. She hadn’t seen Jughead tease or joke with his friends before. The seemingly permanent exhaustion seemed to melt away from his face, just for a moment - she was fascinated.

“Okay, Betty, it’s close enough to five, you may as well head home. I’ll shut up shop here at eight, and Cheryl says she okay to do the morning shift tomorrow, so…see you in here at three?”

Betty smiled and nodded, humming out a _sure thing_ before stripping her apron over her head and walking over to the storeroom where her bag and keys lay. She stopped suddenly, remembering in a heady rush that Jughead was supposed to drive her home. She hedged a glance out the door in his direction, but he was casually packing up his laptop into a small bag, which he then threw over his shoulder. Keys dangling in his hand, he looked towards the counter and met her gaze.

“Ready to go?” He questioned, face impassive again. She internally clashed with herself. Why was he so impassive around her? Maybe he was shy, like her. Or maybe he just wasn’t a fan of her and wanted this to be over quickly. She felt herself going red with embarrassment.

“Yeah, all good.” She managed.

He once again led the way, holding the door open with his foot this time, watching her as she passed him. She whispered out a small thank you before looking around the laneway for his truck. She spied it behind Fangs red sedan, once again appreciating the faded blue colour. It made her think of Jughead’s eyes.

He interrupted her thoughts with teasing. “A spider? Was that really the first thing that came to your head?”

Her ears went pink. "I didn't see you helping!" She defended herself, still giggly. 

Jughead, still grinning, tapped his head. "I'll have you know I have an endless fountain of creativity."

She snorted. 

A few seconds went by as they walked, before Betty straightened, feeling something crawling up her - 

"Jughead! Jesus." She shrieked, brushing his hand off her shoulder. His head fell forward as he laughed, hiding his smile. Betty, embarrassed for the second time that night, struggled to think of something smart to say in retaliation. She was drawing a blank - so, before she could rethink the idea, she stuck out her tongue at him.

He looked down at her mouth, grin fading off his face as he started to look uneasy.

 _Oh my god, I can’t believe I just did that_.

She hurriedly pulled her tongue back in her mouth, turning around to walk towards his car, hands clenched. She heard him follow her, and when he unlocked the passenger side for her she could’ve sworn the tips of his ears were a faint red against his tan skin.

_He’s even embarrassed for me. I’m hopeless._

She could only hope to redeem herself during the car ride home. Once Jughead joined her in the cab, he started the engine and it once again purred to life. She wanted to ask him about the car, but when she turned to him he spoke first.

“Put your seatbelt on.” He pointed to her side where it lay, face impassive again. She felt silly for not remembering something so important but did as she was told.

“Can I ask about the truck?” She hedged quietly, smiling slightly.

He pulled out from the curb, sparing her a look, and nodded, looking amused.

“Where did you get it? It’s been well looked after, is all.”

Jughead nodded. “That’s because it is. It was my dad’s car initially, and he gave it to me a couple of years ago. It’s had a lot of history in my family.”

Betty nodded, knowing it was the same with her dad before her mother divorced him. “My dad and I used to do up cars together, so I know what you mean.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re a gearhead.” He teased, face serious but eyes playful.

She giggled nervously. “I wouldn’t say that. Just a hobby I used to have.”

Before he could reply, they both heard her phone buzz in her bag. She quickly checked it, in case it someone important. It was Veronica.

**How’s James Dean ? x**

She quickly threw the phone back in her bag before Jughead could see it. He threw Betty a sidelong glance, before changing gears at a red light stop.

“All good?” He vocalised.

“Yeah, just Veronica.”

“Tell her not to worry, I’ll have you home in one piece soon.” Another gear change that was just as smooth as the last one. Betty struggled not to look at his hands, telling herself not to think about how they would feel against her bare skin. She let out a shaky breath and muttered a teasing “I hope so,” to cover for her blunder. But now she was hyperaware of the goose bumps that were obvious on her forearms now, and hyperaware of how much space existed between them and how his tan hands would look against her pale skin – _Jesus, Betty, get a grip, you’re not a nymphomaniac_.

She placed her hands on her lap, and despite the coldness seeping into the cab of the car, she felt warm. Another perfect gear change.

“When did you move here?” She continued. Jughead _hmm’d_ thoughtfully around a corner.

“About a year ago. I have friends up here.” Was all he said. She found this answer not quite enough, wanting to know everything about him all at once.

“Do you like living here?” She stared at him.

Pulling the truck up at another red light, he turned to face her.

“It’s different. But I do, if you don’t count the bitterly cold winters.” Now that he pointed it out, she saw the faintest tinge of red to his nose and he rubbed his hands together to warm up.

She made a face at him. “Jug, you should’ve told me, I would’ve made you a hot drink before we left. Your hands look cold.”

He looked a little hesitant, but smiled. “Next time.” He said before accelerating again.

She turned back to face the road, then, recognising the next street as the turnoff to her building. They’d already passed the bus stop. _Damn it_ , she wanted more time with him…but she didn’t want to impose on his already kind gesture, and she felt guilty that she had nothing to offer him in return. The truck slowly pulled up to the curb outside her apartment, and she waited till he pulled the handbrake on before undoing her seatbelt.

“I really appreciate you going out of your way to drive me home. I’ll make it up to you one day.” She smiled, truly meaning the words.

That ever-present tangle of nerves in her belly made itself known again as his eyes scanned her face. His impassive face was back, and she wanted to make him smile again.

“It’s not a problem. I can pick you up tomorrow when you finish work.” The statement wasn’t a question, but she found herself agreeing anyway. “Here, give me your phone.”

She pulled out her phone and unlocked it, handing it over to him, overly cautious in an effort not to touch his long fingers, because she’d probably do something stupid if she did. He took it, typed out a number, and pressed dial. The buzz of his own phone could be heard over the passing traffic.

“Now you can text me when you’ve finished.” He flipped her phone back around and handed it to her.

This time, the contact was unavoidable. His fingers were cold, but his touch warmed her all over and sent a jolt of something down her spine. She cleared her throat when she felt the rush of blood in her ears.

“Thanks. Drive safe, Jug.” She murmured before making an escape out of the suddenly stuffy cab.

He waved a goodbye, lips pulled in a firm line. She turned and hopped up the stairs to the security door, shaking, before slipping in her key and walking inside, urging herself not to look back at him again.

She needed a god damned intervention.

\------------------------------

Veronica was on her the instant she walked through the door.

“Betty, sit down right now and tell me what happened!”

Archie, who was quickly becoming a semi-permanent inhabitant of their apartment dwelling, let out a snort. “He drove her home, they didn’t confess their undying love for each other.”

Veronica shot a glare his way and he shrugged, chuckling and shaking his head.

Betty sighed wistfully, clutching her chest. “V, he is just so…I don’t know. He’s so hard to read but he’s so considerate and…he gave me his number. Wait. Wait! I have his number!” She shrieked, holding her phone out to Veronica to take.

Archie threw his head back in another burst of amusement, laughing as Veronica punched his arm. She turned then, snatching the phone off Betty and eyeing the new number carefully.

“He didn’t save it under his name. What should we call your new lover boy?” Veronica teased.

Betty blundered on, not properly hearing her. “He said to text him tomorrow when I’ve finished work and he will come pick me up. That seems a big offer. Am I putting him out too much do you think?”

Archie and Veronica shared a knowing look. Betty gave up, flopping down on the couch in an emotionally exhausted heap. “I’m doomed.”

The black-haired girl rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is a good sign. Isn’t it, Archikins?”

Archie nodded obediently. “He wouldn’t have given it to you if he minded.”

Veronica clucked her tongue smugly. “You so owe me.”

Betty rolled her eyes, feeling the need to work off some nervous energy. “I’m gonna head to the gym. I’ll be back for dinner.”

“Did you want me to order in some Chinese?” Veronica asked and Archie nodded enthusiastically.

Betty thought sullenly of all the calories and sodium, but nodded as well. She’d just have to workout extra hard before dinner. “Sure. Thanks, V.”

She changed and headed downstairs, head spinning.

\-------------------------------

The next day, Betty was productive enough to start on her essay due in two weeks’ time. Feeling good about herself, she sat down in the huge student library, away from the crowds, and got to work. She got a solid few pages done in a few hours, and came out of her stupor as she realised she only had half an hour to get to work.

“Shit,” she said under her breath, scrambling to pack up her stuff and hurried to make her way out of the library and onto the busy walkway.

Making the 2:30 bus just in time, she took a seat at the front, phone in hand and bag beside her. She fiddled, mind still on her essay, wishing there were more hours in the day to get things done. She was only in her first year of college, and it was already busy, almost to the brink of what she could manage. It was still early days…she remembered the feeling yesterday, unease whirling within her, when she had realised that no, journalism was her mother’s dream for her, not Betty’s. She wanted …she wanted to write, really write. A whole book, whether fiction or non-fiction. She glanced at her phone. It had been a whole week since she had received a phone call from her mother. Maybe she should phone, just to see how things were going, to be a good daughter, to see how Polly was…

But then she remembered Polly’s disapproving stare when Betty had suggested moving out of home with Veronica. Betty had tried to convince herself that it wasn’t that they didn’t like the girl, because they'd never actually  _met her,_ but more that it had to do with Hiram Lodge, Veronica’s father. Veronica had never mentioned it and Betty had never asked, but both Polly and her mother had hinted of the illegitimate nature of Hiram’s wealth. They had used word’s like _mob_ and _gangs_ and it had all gone over Betty’s head. Veronica was her _friend,_ and her relatives had nothing to do with that. Betty was an expert in dysfunctional families. And so Betty left, without the blessing of her sister and mother.

Betty thumbed over the icon of her dad, a wave of depression washing over her. She missed him, dearly, and resolved to call him tonight once she got home. She clicked the home screen, only for her phone to vibrate with an unknown number. A shot of excitement went up her spine, and she opened the message.

**Cheryl doesn’t make coffee as well as you.**

She knew instantly it was Jughead, but double checked the number just in case. Saving the number into her phone as _Jug,_ she panicked, trying to think of a decent reply that didn’t make her sound weird. Before she could formulate a response, another message came through.

**Its just Jughead, by the way. Fangs said you’ll finish at 8?**

She breathed out noisily and her fingers flew over the keys before hitting send.

 **Hi! Yeah, I finish at 8. I’ll bring you a coffee to make up for it**.

She figured that didn’t sound to weird and told herself not to overthink it. Her phone vibrated in her hand again, and she looked down to see his last message.

**Perfect.**

\---------------------------

It had been a long shift. Betty was sweating with exertion, having forgotten that Friday nights were busy with people wanting post-dinner coffee and desserts. She had done well though, to get the main rush of people out of the way and was now running around, cleaning tables and stacking up the chairs for closing.

When she had arrived, Cheryl had done nothing more than raise an eyebrow at the blond girl and smirk knowingly. Betty had shot her a look, because the customers were lining up and there was no time for gossip. Cheryl had left with another pointed look and a “text me,”, making Betty blush. In the now quiet shop, she heard her phone buzz in the storeroom. She spared a look at the clock, that read 7:41pm, and surmised that it probably wasn’t Jughead.

Only once she finished the clean-up and had locked away the register did she check her phone.

 **So who was the hunk in here earlier this morning? - Cheryl**. Betty, knowing that Cheryl wouldn’t drop a scent once she had one, sent back a simple

**I met him the other night. He’s one of Fangs’ friends.**

She didn’t have to wait longer than thirty seconds for a reply.

 **I know. They talked about you today. – Cheryl.** Betty’s heart pounded in her chest. Fangs and Jughead had talked about her? Her mind went into anxiety mode. Fingers shaking, she typed.

 **What? What about? Did you hear it? Did they look happy?** About five minutes went past and by the time Cheryl replied, Betty was sweating for a whole different reason. Even her palms were clammy.

**;) – Cheryl.**

“Damn it.” Betty said viciously. Cheryl had timed this perfectly, because now she was going to be an absolute mess when Jughead turned up.

Dimly, she remembered the mirror in the back of the storeroom. She rushed over to it, checking her reflection and instantly regretting it when she saw her sweaty hair, dull eyes and paler than normal skin. Once again, she had forgotten to eat today, and her belly rumbled in discomfort. She placed a palm against her flat stomach, willing it to stop. She had a thought. Jughead might also be hungry when she picked him up. Walking back around the front, she made one last coffee for him (the way he liked it) and grabbed the single apple and cinnamon muffin left from the store fridge. She heated it up, checking the time – 7:54 – and figured she could start to turn off the machines, lock up and wait for him.

She saw him before he saw her. He had his car keys in hand, looking around the street before he opened the front door and stuck his head in. The bell sounded as he found her instantly, coffee and bag in hand, waiting for him. She felt a bit silly, thinking she was overdoing it - but when his face lit up at the prospect of food she couldn’t find it in herself to regret it.

“Hi.” She said huskily, highly aware of how awful she looked. Jughead gave her a once over, stern expression back in place as he strode toward her.

“Hi,” he murmured. “You good to go?” She nodded, warmth spreading out under her skin at his gaze, holding out the cup and his food for him.

“I thought you might be hungry.” She said shyly.

He immediately took them out of her hands, allowing her to walk to the door, keys in hand, to lock up for the night. He followed, brushing past her so closely she could smell his shirt. He smelled so masculine that it immediately sent a bolt of heat through her, and made her insides ache in a way that made it difficult to concentrate. Turning the key, she checked that the door was indeed locked, before turning around to face him. He was impassive, as usual, but when she met his gaze he smiled crookedly, eyes creasing at the corners.

“Thanks for the food, Betty, you didn’t have to.” She went pink, although she knew he wouldn’t see it in the dark and thanked her lucky stars.

“It’s no problem, it’s the least I can do.” He shook his head at her before gesturing for her to follow him to the car. Her side, apparently, had been left unlocked for her. She opened the door as he did, and he jumped in, balancing his coffee before he placed it in the cup holder in the console. She followed suite, feeling a sense of easiness when she felt the familiar old leather under her thighs. She had worn tights today, because it had been a warm day, and it was now an unseasonably warm night for November. He took a look inside the bag, pulling out the muffin.

Unfortunately, at that exact moment, Betty’s stomach once again gurgled loudly inside the quiet space of the cab. This made her blush and cover her face in embarrassment when Jughead let out a startled laugh.

“Hungry?” He questioned, mirth showing easily on his face.

“Sorry, _God,_ sorry. I realised earlier that I hadn’t eaten anything for lunch, because I’d forgotten. I was doing my essay and -”

“Excuse me,” Jughead interrupted. “How can you forget to eat? Wait, have you eaten at all today?” He looked at her intently, searching her face.

She shook her head, biting her lip. He frowned, a concerned expression transforming his face into one that Betty was not familiar with. He looked back at the muffin in his hands, before turning in his seat and grabbing her hand, startling her. He pressed the muffin into her palm, and urged _“Eat.”_

Wide eyed, she took the muffin back, only to feel insanely guilty, because it was her fault that she hadn’t eaten.

“But I got this muffin for you.” She said childishly, feeling ridiculous. He rolled his eyes, exasperated.

“Eat.” He repeated.

Suddenly she had an idea. Using her other hand, she carefully pulled the muffin into two pieces, so as not to spill any crumbs on the seats. She then handed one half back to him, seeing his small smile, before taking a massive bite of the now lukewarm muffin. Even though it wasn’t hot, it was sweet and still fresh from being baked earlier today. She groaned softly as she chewed and swallowed, and took another bite. It was then she noticed that he wasn’t eating his piece. She looked up at him in confusion. He was looking forward, jaw clenched, and stern expression back in place.

 _Have I done something wrong?_ She thought nervously, looking down at herself. She’d probably annoyed him when she split the muffin in half. Instead of taking a bite out of the muffin, he reached for his coffee and took a small sip, his fingers pinching the skin between his eyes like he had a headache.

“Sorry.” She hedged, and was surprised when he chuckled, a deep sound in his throat. He took a deep breath before reaching for the keys in the ignition, starting the engine and rolling the car out of the laneway.

“If you’re hungry, Betty, I don’t mind driving you to get something to eat.” His voice was unnaturally level, as if he was working to sound normal. She shook her head.

“Really, it’s okay. I’m sure there’s food in the fridge at home.” He looked unhappy with her answer, but turned the corner towards her apartment building, disgruntled.

“So how was work?” He asked lightly, taking another sip of his coffee before putting it down to change gears.

“It was busy. Fridays always are. Makes the time go fast, though.” She quipped. “What did you get up to today?”

He blinked and stiffened, before relaxing again. “Wrote a bit, took a walk. I swung by and grabbed coffee on Cheryl’s shift.”

“Yeah, she mentioned.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” His tone light, but his hands tensed on the steering wheel. “What did she say?” She could see the whites of his knuckles and couldn’t tear her eyes away.

“Not a lot.” Betty’s face must have shown her annoyance, because Jughead relaxed slightly, chuckling. She wondered why he was so tense. She chewed her lip thoughtfully. Clearly, Cheryl knew something.

“Cheryl’s a handful sometimes.” He hedged. “But she means well.”

“She’s a good friend,” Betty agreed. “Speaking of, I haven’t seen the others around?” She asked before taking another unladylike bite of her muffin.

Jughead nodded. “They’re all fairly busy, at the moment. Work wise, and such.” His tone was still tense, and she felt as though she was missing something. She took that answer at face value, though, and wondered what they all did for work. Did they all have the same job? What did Jughead do for a living? Did he even have a job? She gulped down the final bite of her muffin and considered Jughead, waiting for him to meet her gaze again. Once he realised she was staring, he raised a questioning eyebrow, lip curling upwards in a half smile.

“Hey Jug, what do you – “ Betty was interrupted by the shrill sound of her ringtone, and she winced.

Realising that the sound was coming from her back pocket, her thigh shifted to the right, so she could fish out the device and _throw it out the bloody window_. She felt her thigh press against something, but ignored it and wriggled even more because the zip on the tights just _wouldn’t_ come undone - she felt all the air leave her when she realised she had moved so that her thigh was now touching his hand on the gear stick.

Forgetting the phone completely, she flushed, embarrassment and heat swarming through her, making her clench her stomach and exhale noisily, furthering her humiliation. Jughead, beside her, didn’t move a muscle. She could feel his fingers through the material of her tights, wishing that it didn’t exist, so he could touch her… _really_ touch her. The air around them changed, and neither of them spoke, when she noticed his hand on the steering wheel was tense again. She wondered if he was affected, or if he just felt incredibly awkward.

They accelerated, and he changed gears, no longer touching her. She was mortified at her reaction - she had acted like a stupid teenager, blushing and getting hot at his _stupid_ hand touching her _stupid_ thigh. She couldn’t even look at him out of embarrassment, and her anxiety reared its ugly head making her heart pounding tremulously.

He hadn’t said anything, and she was an _idiot._

But then…he hadn’t said anything…

Jughead reached for his coffee, coughing slightly, and she decided to speak to break the tension.

“How’s the coffee?” She cringed at how awkward she sounded, but he grinned.

“It’s better than this morning.” He sounded husky, his voice deeper than usual.

“Surely Cheryl isn’t that bad at coffee making.” Betty joked weakly, simultaneously relieved and devastated to see her stop up ahead. Her thigh was tingling, and her legs were weak. She was so pathetic.

“It isn’t that she’s bad at it, per se.” He mumbled. “It’s just that yours are…” Was it Betty, or were his cheeks suddenly pinker than normal?

Betty stared, entirely enraptured with it.

“They’re what?” Betty questioned when he trailed off. Jughead’s eyes were shifty when he pulled up outside the apartment complex, before turning to face Betty fully, his eyes searching hers intently.

“Well, they’re yours.” He smiled hesitantly, and at that moment Betty could have kissed him. In fact, she sighed audibly at the thought, biting her lip against another rush of heat that pooled… _oh my god, I’m turned on. What the fuck, Betty_. He tensed then, face going hard again, and she saw the muscles of his jaw working, clenching and unclenching. She thought she heard him exhale quietly, and blinked, confused, because it was then she felt her stomach sink in a way that made her feel ill. He didn’t like her. _He knows, and now he feels awkward_. _Great going, Betty._ She needed to get out, now. She felt panicked and embarrassed, and tears of self-hatred burned behind her eyes.

“Thanks for the drive, again. I’ll see you around?” She managed, hating the way her voice shook a little, and, grabbing her bag, she opened the door and started to flee. She didn’t get very far before she felt his hand reach out to lightly touch at her elbow, effectively stopping her in her tracks. His fingers tensed, just for a second, before letting go.

“Can I text you over the weekend?” His face was still stern, but the hesitancy in his eyes showed as he stared at her closely.

She nodded, smiling nervously again, before turning to face the imposing glass door of her building. And once again, she didn’t dare look back.

\-----------------------

Betty had resolutely decided that she would not embarrass herself in front of Jughead anymore.

When she had gotten through the front door Friday night, Veronica wasn’t there. It was then that Betty remembered that someone had called her earlier, when she had been with Jughead. She scrambled to check her phone in case something had happened to Veronica. Veronica had called, in fact. But she had also sent a text afterwards, explaining that she was spending the night at Archie’s, and that Betty would have the run of the place. Betty sent back an _OK, night xx_ , and proceeded to strip the clothes over her sore muscles, getting ready for a shower. She _really_ needed a massage.

The shower did wonders to ease the tension in her body, and she felt the anxiety drain away until the steam and the heat became too much for her. Stepping out and grabbing a towel, she padded over to her bedroom, still dripping but now too tired to care. She grabbed her phone on the way to her bed, shucking on her pyjamas and towelling her hair. Finally collapsing into the soft sheets, she sighed and checked her phone one last time.

She smiled sleepily when she saw a message from Jughead.

**Goodnight Betty.**

She typed out a sleepy reply, before closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep.

**Night, Jug.**

\------------------------

The next day, Betty woke up to a rumbling stomach and a craving for pancakes. Saturdays were her days off, and she stretched, rubbing her stomach contritely and relishing the thought of food. She threw back the covers, determined to fill the cavern that was her stomach.

Unfortunately, on a cursory check of the contents of the fridge, she found no staple ingredients for pancakes…or anything, really. Should she just order in? _Fuck it_ , she thought. _After yesterday I deserve it_.

And so that’s how Betty found herself sitting alone at the fancy island bench, digging into a takeaway serving of fluffy white pancakes, maple syrup and strawberries. Despite her solitary nature, she felt a pang of loneliness when she remembered that Veronica had stayed at Archie’s place last night, meaning she probably wouldn’t get to see her all day either. She lowered her fork, suddenly depressed, when her phone let off a buzz and she perked up. Speak of the devil…

But instead of Veronica’s name flashing across the screen, she squeaked when she saw Jughead had messaged her instead.

**What you up to?**

She tapped her fingers against the table, pancakes momentarily forgotten. This was new territory for Betty – somehow, and for some reason, Jughead was texting her outside of necessities’ sake. But then she remembered his expression from last night and thought that maybe…maybe he might be lonely, too. And so she grinned, taking a photo of her pancakes, making sure to capture them from a decent angle, and sent it to him with the word _breakfast,_ and the smiling emoji.

A few minutes went by while Betty continued to take huge mouthfuls of the food, her stomach gratefully feeling better by the second. Her phone vibrated.

 **You’re making me hungry**.

Betty was definitely reading to much into it, but she read the double entendre and clenched her thighs together. She was being utterly ridiculous.

She pondered her reply.

 **What are you doing?** She sent back. Quite lame, but Veronica wasn’t present and Betty wasn’t up for being especially creative today. She finished her pancakes without a reply, before deciding she needed to get some work done.

Throwing her rubbish in the trash can, she went to the bathroom and gathered up her dirty clothes from the week and threw them in the washing machine. She considered throwing some of Veronica’s in, too, and went back to grab her basket. It was then she felt her phone buzz in her back pocket, making her flush crimson, vividly recalling last night’s events. She threw a hand over her eyes, groaning out loud in embarrassment. Forcing herself to recover, she took a deep breath and checked the screen. It was Jughead, so she thumbed open the message.

**Wishing I was at the coffee shop.**

She froze, wondering what he meant. Did he mean his writing?

 **You like writing that much?** She sent, adding on the little smiling emoji with its tongue out for good measure. She hoped he realised she was teasing him and didn’t take it to heart.

 **Something like that.** Came the reply. She blinked, not knowing what to say to that, so she locked her phone and continued to throw in some of Veronica’s clothes into the wash, checking the pockets as she did so. Once that load was on, she fiddled around the house for a few minutes, tidying up and grabbing her laptop to settle into study. A few minutes went by as she typed out sentence after sentence, but her heart wasn’t in it today. It was only the start of term, and she berated herself for her laziness and urged herself not to get distracted. She glanced at her phone, though, tempted.

Throwing caution to the wind, she snatched it from its position beside her and hastily typed out a message and pressed send before she could rethink herself.

**Can you tell me more about what you’re writing?**

She was scared to ask this question. Jughead, for all intensive purposes, seemed like a very private person who was reluctant to share some things, if anything, about himself. She had hoped that asking directly would prompt him a bit more, but then nerves began to settle in. What if he thought she was being intrusive? There was nothing she could do now, though, and so she threw her phone back down, sighing at herself. Why did she have to overthink everything? And so, waiting for a reply, Betty knuckled down into her study. By the time Veronica got home, two hours had passed, and Betty was surrounded by papers and textbooks of various size. Betty blinked, eyes suddenly sore from staring at her computer screen, and looked up as Veronica threw her keys down on the island bench.

“Hey, V,” Betty said softly. “How was your morning?”

Veronica sighed wistfully. “Archie’s amazing, Bettys. You have no idea.”

Betty laughed outright at her friend’s lovestruck state; absentmindedly thinking of her own ridiculous, puppy-love behaviour of the previous night.

Gasping dramatically, she reached for her phone, to find a message from Jughead that was sent over an hour ago. She was an asshole. Betty opened the message, very aware of a curious Veronica throwing a smirk in her direction.

**It’s about my life growing up in Riverdale. It sounds bad when I say it like that.**

She was beyond intrigued, and desperately wanted to ask for more. Looking up and meeting Veronica’s gaze, she let out a ridiculous, girly, high-pitched squeal that had Veronica amused.

“Betty, what the hell? What happened with your Tall, Dark and Mysterious last night?”

“I completely embarrassed myself in front of him. And I’m not even sure he’s interested."

“And was that him just now, who texted you?” Veronica indicated to the phone, raising an eyebrow.

Betty hesitated. “Yes. We were texting earlier this morning, but I got lost in schoolwork and forgot to reply.” She frowned at herself.

Veronica raised the other eyebrow. “Well, reply, silly, can’t have him losing interest!” She said sarcastically before advising Betty that she was going to have a shower, _and that this is a conversation for after I’ve had a second coffee_.

And so Betty tried desperately to think of a decent reply. Rubbing her eyes, she typed and sent.

 **It doesn’t sound bad.** Thinking, she typed out another response and sent it.

 **I wish my life was interesting enough to write about**.

Too strung out now to go back to school work and thinking that she had done enough for the day, she packed up her laptop and books, sluggishly carrying them back to her room and considering going for a run. Days off were always good, but more often than not, she found herself wishing for more things to do to curb the incessant, nattering anxiety that always seemed to rise up in her throat when she was idle. Swallowing against a dry throat, she dropped everything on her bed, and began compulsively sorting out the textbooks to lie in order on her bookshelf. Next was the laptop, placed in the centre of her desk, where she plugged it in, ready for the next day. Her heart leapt in her throat when she heard the distant buzz of her phone on the coffee table.

Racing out the door to the living room, she grabbed her phone and opened the message without delay.

**You’re plenty interesting to me.**

Betty, gobsmacked, didn’t know what to say to that message. She was interesting? She was the least interesting person she knew. Her mother had drilled strictness into her very core from day one. She wasn’t particularly pretty, didn’t have amazing hair like Veronica, didn’t have an amazing figure like Cheryl, and was just….well, just Betty. “Really?” She whispered to herself.

Hesitating again, she typed.

 **Really?** She got a reply almost instantaneously.

**Really.**

\-----------------------------------

Betty and Jughead had been texting over the last several hours, driving Veronica insane her mood swings and herself mad with excitement. She’d already found out so much more about him – he had a sister called Jellybean, he loved murder mysteries, and he was a sucker for old time movies on the big screen. Also, Jughead wasn’t his real name. All this information made Betty’s insides twist with warmth, but she tried to dampen her feelings because she just didn’t know if he liked her. Maybe she needed to cool off for a bit. Playing with her phone in hand, she suddenly remembered her vow to call her father.

She straightened from her slouched position on the couch, feeling guilty for forgetting. She went through her phone’s contacts, seeing the old picture of her father she had taken one Christmas. He was wearing that stupid Santa hat, with an expression on his face that was, perhaps, the last smile she had seen on him since her parent’s divorce. She clicked the icon and waited for the ringing tone.

“Hey, Dad.” She said when he picked up.

“Hey Sweetie.” Betty could’ve almost cried when she realised how much she’d missed his voice.

“How have you been?” She said through the wave of emotion.

“I’ve been okay Betty. How are you?” His voice sounded sad and slow, so different from what he used to sound like when she was young. She missed it.

“I’m okay, Dad, I just miss you.” She frowned when he sighed.

“I miss you too, Betty. How’s school?”

They talked. She talked about her life, about how she was coping, about anything that wasn’t her mother back home. He talked about his new job, his shabby apartment, and his new life in a different city. It wasn’t until later, when the conversation had died down, that her father had asked a question he hadn’t asked in a long time.

“So, Betty, is there a new man in your life?” He sounded too innocent, and she was instantly suspicious.

“What? Who told you?” Her father laughed.

“No-one. You just sound happier.” She bit her lip. Was she happier? She didn’t know yet; it was too soon to tell. She certainly wanted to be happier.

“Betty?” Her father had asked when she went silent. “Yeah, Dad. I like someone. I – just, nothing’s happened yet. I don’t even know if he likes me.”

Her situation felt more real, once she’d said it out loud.

“Well, I wouldn’t worry, sweetheart. He’d be stupid not to like you. You deserve the best.” Her chest ached.

“Thanks, Dad.” She heard shuffling on the other end of the phone.

“I’m really sorry, Betty. I’ve gotta get back to work.” She heaved a sigh, but she really understood. Journalism was a hard game to be in.

“That’s okay. I’m glad I called. Love you, Dad.”

“I love you too. Bye Betty.” She heard the dial tone echo through the receiver. Looking at her phone screen, she felt better than she had in days. The conversation had cleared her head and eased her stresses – she could only hope her dad felt the same.

Checking to see if Jughead had replied since her call, she was unnerved to find her inbox empty. Betty optimistically figured he would be busy – hopefully she hadn’t bored him to tears and frightened him away, knowing that her odd behaviour would be more than enough to do so. Clutching her phone in hand, she padded out to the kitchen, bare feet cold on the tiled floor. She had pulled a heavy woollen jumper over her head when the weather began to get colder as the day wore on. Fiddling with he sleeves, she began to search the cupboards in search of anything that resembled lunch. Finding nothing but some milk and a box of cereal, she quickly abandoned that endeavour – her stomach rumbled in disagreement, not forgetting the previous day’s neglect.

Veronica, it appeared, was draped out on the lounge suite, surrounded by blankets and pillows. Netflix was on screen, playing Brooklyn 99, Veronica’s favourite show. Betty, wringing her hands, took a few steps and sat down gingerly beside her, silently asking for attention. Veronica looked up, and seeing the expression on Betty’s face, went from sleepy to concerned in seconds.

“B, what’s up? Is everything okay?” Betty felt nervous laughter bubble to the surface at the question, and she struggled to quell it.

“Yeah, I’m sorry Veronica. It’s just – well, how do you get a guy to like you?” Betty managed through a giggle.

Veronica stilled, obviously not expecting the question, before she smiled.

“Well, in your case, Betty, you just have to look at them.” Betty groaned, the answer not helping her at all.

“V, I’m being serious.”

Veronica clawed her way out of her cavern of pillows. “Well, if a boy likes you, you generally just get a vibe. We’re talking about TD&M, here, aren’t we?”

Betty nodded once, and Veronica sighed. “Well, Betty, I wish you would just believe me when I say you’re beautiful and even if he doesn’t like you, you could get any man you wanted. You know that, right?”

Betty’s stomach whirled, wanting to believe the words, but also having her mother’s voice ring through her head. _Betty, you shouldn’t be eating dessert, honey. Betty, have you put on weight recently? Betty, put some blush on for God’s sake, you look sallow!_

Jesus.

But Betty gave Veronica a watery nod and a small smile, because at least _someone_ thought she was beautiful.

Veronica was looking closely at Betty, eyes narrowed, but they softened quickly as Veronica suddenly held out her arms for a hug. Betty quickly fell into them, and they spent the next episode like that, just simply being in each other’s company. It was peaceful. Until Betty’s phone buzzed in her hand.

Clicking open the screen, she read the text quietly.

**Are you working tomorrow?**

Betty was indeed working, her usual 3 till 8 shift. Happiness wormed her way into her stomach, and she hurriedly typed out a reply, not caring that it might look lame to reply immediately.

 **Yeah, the usual shift.** Closing her phone, she needn’t have waited because it buzzed again, almost immediately.

**Great. I will see you then.**

Hesitating, because she didn’t want to come across as desperate, she stared at her reply before mentally slapping herself. Just send it, Betty.

**Can’t wait (:**

Veronica grinned at her knowingly, but remained silent as Betty settled back in.

\----------------------

And so Betty, the next day, was showering after the longest run she’d had in two weeks. Her muscles were sore, but the nervous tension inside her had been worked away, leaving a faint excitement and anticipation. She was going to act normally around Jughead today. She swore it to herself. No more embarrassing moments, and no more _blushing._ Towelling herself off, she threw on her usual jeans and a blue long-sleeved top, before brushing her hair into a ponytail.

Her plain face stared back at her in the mirror, and she bit her lip. Knowing that makeup wouldn’t help her cause much, she carefully applied the mascara, and a little bit of concealer for the tired circles under her eyes. Glancing nervously at the blush sitting in the bathroom cupboard, she considered. But she straightened, deciding that _no,_ she didn’t need it to feel confident, and her mother was wrong. She didn’t like wearing makeup, generally, but enjoyed the way mascara framed her eyes and made them look bigger. Blush just wasn’t her.

In the end, she bussed it to the laneway, thinking that for once she didn’t have to rush. She enjoyed the bus rides during the day – they were usually quiet and peaceful. Her stop came too soon, and she grabbed her bag and hopped off, scanning her travel card as she did so. Starting the short walk to the coffee shop, she shivered, and hard. It was freezing today, and she’d only grabbed a thin cardigan. She hoped to god that the shop was at least a bit warmer than out here. Turning the corner, she spied Fangs sedan, and Cheryl’s pink bicycle tied to the lamppost, but didn’t see Jughead’s blue pickup. She breathed a sigh of relief, and then shook her head. Of course, he wouldn’t be here, he was picking her up tonight.

The bell signalled her arrival, making Fangs glance up at her from his seated position at his usual table. Sundays were the days that Fangs settled in to do the paperwork and ordering sheets for the week. As young as he was, he was a great business owner and an even greater boss. She smiled and waved, and Fangs gave her an eager wave back.

“Hey, Betty, how was your day off?”

Betty grinned back at him. “I pretty much didn’t move off the couch all day, but thanks for asking.”

She walked around to where her apron hung, popping it over her head and clocking on.

“Really?” Fangs emphasized, and stood, striding around the counter to follow Betty. “So Jughead didn’t – “

Cheryl coughed then, suddenly, and quite severely, throwing a glare at Fangs in a way that Betty wouldn’t have dared.

“Sorry, peeps, I must still have a lingering cough from last week.” With one last eyeball towards Fangs, she continued wiping down the coffee machine for the afternoon rush period. Betty looked between them in confusion, worry creasing her forehead and making her hands shake.

“That’s okay, Cheryl. Fangs? What about Jughead?”

Fangs suddenly looked sheepish, and muttered a firm “Nothing, sorry, Betty.” Before once again seating himself and shuffling papers.

Betty then turned to Cheryl, who was astutely and meticulously wiping down invisible grime off the coffee trays. Betty stomped up to Cheryl, her hands fisted at her sides in frustration, and tapped her on the shoulder.

“Cheryl,” she whispered, hoping not to bring attention to themselves. “What is going on here? What about Jughead?”

Cheryl turned, glancing at Fangs and looking back at Betty apologetically. “Look, Betty, I’m sorry, but we promised Jughead we wouldn’t tell you. It’s hard enough already.”

Betty’s fingernails dug into the skin of her palms, anxiety crushing in her chest. “Oh.” She whispered, deflated. She hoped it wasn’t about her, because it didn’t sound like great news. It sounded like Jughead had realised that she likes him and felt uncomfortable with someone like her following him around. Betty could have cried. Cheryl, with one more apologetic sigh, turned to continue her work, leaving Betty to her thoughts.

\------------------------------------

Once Betty had said goodbye to Cheryl, she was left alone. Betty became agitated and frustrated for the rest of the day, miserable over the prospect of Jughead’s lack of reciprocal feelings. The doubt in her mind had been sewn. By the time eight o’clock rolled around, Betty had cleaned everything twice over in her attempt to avoid her inner monologue. She was aware that her concealer had probably been rubbed or sweated off, and that her hair was a frizzy mess from the humidity in the shop. Her apron had been hung up, and she was waiting by the door, keys in hand, for Jughead to round the corner.

At the last minute, Betty decided to take the tie out of her hair and let the frizzy mess hang free. Running her hands through the blond strands, she vainly attempted to smooth it over. But then Jughead came into view, the familiar impassive expression plastered onto his face. He saw her through the glass, meeting her gaze, halting briefly, before taking one more step and unhurriedly opening the door.

“Hey.” He said quietly, half smile melting away all Betty’s insecurities. Her stomach swarmed with butterflies, and she struggled to remember how to breathe. _In, out, Betty._

“Hi.” She replied shyly, eyes wide at his open stare. A small smile worked its way onto her face, and she felt her cheeks go slightly pink at the attention. _Dammit._

Jughead blinked, smile faltering for a second, before it came back full force. He opened the door wider for her, forcing her to walk out by ducking under his arm. She felt his gaze follow her out the door, before she turned and he let the door swing shut, allowing her to lock the door shut. She refused to breathe with him in such close proximity, because her hormones did not need to make an appearance right now.

“How was your day?” She asked politely, for lack of anything better to say.

“It was okay. Nothing exciting. What about yours?”

“Could’ve been better.” She grumbled out miserably, remembering her earlier frustration.

Suddenly he was very close to her, eyes soft and sympathetic.

“Why do you say that?” He asked gently, taking another half step so she had to crane her neck to look up at him. 

Betty inhaled sharply in surprise, the smell of him sending a jolt down to her core. Her heart rate picked up tenfold, and her head swam with the urge to be closer to him, to touch him. He was so much taller than her, and she had to look up at him as she took in a second unsteady breath.

“J-Jug, what?” She squeaked out. She felt hot despite the fact that there was an icy wind blowing, as her imagination went wild. She wanted contact, and lots of it. She had never felt this turned on by someone in her life, much less by the most beautiful man she had ever met. He made a noise of realisation, then, his own eyes going wide, before taking a step back.

“I’m so sorry.” He mumbled. The tension wasn’t shattered, though, and she tried to ignore the throbbing between her legs in an effort to seem normal. Taking a steadying breath, she broke his gaze, looking down.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, confusion clouding her mind. 

Jughead turned then, waiting for her to follow him to his car. She followed beside him, nervous, and dared a glance up at his face, just once. He looked furious, which made her want to smooth out the lines on his forehead. She wanted his crooked smile back. She wanted him. What was wrong with her? Why was he so angry? They reached the car after what felt like an eternity. This time, when Jughead went to unlock her side, she stared long enough to notice the angry tension in his shoulders, and exhaled noisily, humming in anxiety, which made Jughead pause in his actions for a moment. He pressed on, though, finally unlocking her door with a click and turning to stride around to the driver’s side. Before he could do so, though, Betty impulsively put a hand on his arm.

He stopped, tensing even more, and refused to look at her. She licked her dry lips anxiously, and his looked at her then, at her mouth, and she saw his jaw clench once again. Before she could stop herself, she put a hand softly on his cheek, and pulled his face around to hers. Standing on her toes, she pressed her lips against his soft ones, and it all came back in a flood of heat, pulsing through her violently. Her hand was shaking against his cheek, not with anxiety, but with pure arousal. His _smell…_

But he didn’t respond. He wasn’t even breathing. The tension is his shoulders hadn’t dissipated. She was fucking idiot.

She pulled back, gasping out _“I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I did that,”_ before turning to run away. 

She would take the bus home – it wasn’t too late, she could still make it if she ran.

His hand on her arm stopped her. His fingers were cold, but the heat his touch produced on her wrist made her weak. Her legs were like jelly – from adrenaline, from embarrassment, and from his proximity. She didn’t dare look at him as tears of shame welled in her eyes.

“Jesus, Betty.” He ground out, tightening his hold. “I thought - I wanted to..." he trailed off, huffing in frustration. 

She couldn’t think straight with his touch, and licked her lips anxiously. He stared at her mouth, before growling lowly, blue eyes darkening by the second.

“Fuck this.” He ground out. It was then she felt both hands grab her waist and pushed her against the side of the truck, his lips coming down on hers again in a desperation that made her gasp against his mouth. She felt her legs give out from under her, but his steady weight held her up. Heat flooded her core, and she keened, hands sliding up to his hair and holding on for dear life. His beanie fell to the ground.

His lips were so soft, sliding against her own with a gentleness that had her writhing in his grip, had her pushing against him for more. His mouth opened obligingly, deepening the kiss, before pulling away to plant chaste kisses across her chin, down her neck - sending jolts of arousal straight to her core. His other hand let go of her then, too, and slid down to her thigh, hoisting her up off the ground so she had to wrap her legs around his waist. She pulled him impossibly closer, felt him shudder at the action and he gasped into her shoulder. 

He slowed then, hands shaking as he pulled one away and gripped the roof of the truck. His other remained on her thigh, steadying both her and him. _Why was he stopping?_ She didn’t want to stop. Betty’s breath came in short gasps when Jughead finally broke apart from her, warm lips leaving a cold sting against her skin. She was out of her mind with arousal, and her mind struggled to comprehend the delay. 

“Juggie, please, why are you stopping?” She whined through puffy lips, eyes searching his face uncertainly. 

His eyes were glazed, and he pulled his hand from the truck up to cup her face gently.

“Fuck, how are you even _real.”_ He murmured, pressing his lips against hers in a simple, chaste kiss. “Baby, not here. I wanted to do this, but I just – you’re so beautiful and you deserve better. I’m sorry.” His body was still wound tight with tension.

He may have had some sense, but Betty was still aching for release. She rolled her hips with a little whine, and felt his fingers dig into her thigh at the motion. His other hand came off the roof of the truck to pin her hips away from his, even as he panted from her actions.

“Not here,” he repeated, and in a rush, Betty remembered where they were, and flushed a deep scarlet from her actions.

When he saw her cheeks flood with colour he gave a low snicker, making Betty swat him on the shoulder.

“Shut-up.” She couldn’t keep from grinning in return, though.

He leaned forward and nuzzled into her neck, breathing in deeply, before sighing and loosening his grip on her, dropping her to the ground once more. She wobbled a bit, and she used him arm to steady herself. Where had he learnt to kiss like that?

He opened the door for her, sliding her in and stopping, briefly, to peck a kiss to her cold nose. She wrinkled her face up and he laughed in return, stooping down to grab his beanie.

When Jughead opened his own door, sliding in, he simply looked at her, eyes dark. The ride home was significantly less awkward, now. They were _touching,_ something Betty didn’t even think possible until tonight. When Jughead pulled up at a red light, a thought occurred to her.

“Hey Jug…is this why Cheryl wouldn’t tell me anything?” She whispered, and frowned when he nodded.

“I wasn’t going to try anything – I’m not good, Betty. But you just made it so hard.” His voice was tinged with discomfort. 

“Why?” Betty asked softly, grateful that he was finally opening up to her.

“Jesus, Betty, you’re fucking gorgeous.” Jughead shook his head as if to clear it.

Betty, naturally, was speechless. He found her gorgeous? She wrung her hands in front of her, not knowing how to accept the compliment.

Jughead turned the corner to her apartment building, rolling up out the front, where the lights illuminated his face. She saw his angry expression, eyes burning.

Turning and reaching for her, he leant forward and pressed another kiss to her lips, and she sighed, trying to deepen it. He pulled back then, shaking his head, expression sad. Betty felt a tug in her chest that she wasn’t sure was good or bad.

“When will I see you next?” She asked, desperate to keep whatever they had here. He hesitated.

“Do you have a day off this week?” She shook her head no. “Well then I guess tomorrow night, if you’re working.” She nodded, struggling to form a coherent sentence and wondering how he was doing so.

“I’m sorry. If Veronica hadn’t told you about that man, you wouldn’t have to haul me everywhere.”

Jughead frowned at this and grabbed her hand. “No. It’s not out of my way. Since Veronica told me about what happened last week, I don’t – I want you protected.” His voice, although soft, left little room for argument.

“Okay,” Betty bit her lip. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” She leaned forward for another kiss, and he obliged, smiling tenderly into her mouth.

“Bye.” He whispered, breaking the kiss.

She turned and slid out of the cab, walking towards her door and putting the key in, turning around one last time, smiling despite herself. Jughead was staring at her, eyes soft and lips pulled upwards, making butterflies go wild in her stomach. She broke his gaze, striding inside and watching as he pulled away from the curb.

Holy _shit,_ she could not believe that just happened. She raced up the stairs, foregoing the elevator, and reached her floor in record time. She flew in the front door to her apartment as fast as her keys would allow her and threw her bag down blindly.

“V, are you in?” She yelled into the apartment.

Hearing shuffling, she turned the corner to their living room to find Veronica sprawled out, papers everywhere, and reading glasses framing her face. She had headphones over her ears, so Betty called Veronica’s name once more. Finally hearing her, the black-hair girl glanced up, smiling when she saw Betty.

“Hey, what’s up? How was work?” She questioned, seeing the delight on Betty’s face.

“Veronica, he kissed me!” Betty squealed, grin breaking out on her face. “Oh man, I kissed him first and then I thought he didn’t reciprocate but then he grabbed me and oh…” She trailed off, sitting down beside her friend.

Veronica squealed too, delighted for her friend. She let out a ridiculous giggle at the lovestruck look on Betty’s face, though, and said ”God, is that how I looked when I was falling for Archie?” Betty nodded her head, giggling right along with her friend. 

“At least I can relate now.” Betty sighed. 

Veronica sighed serenely. “At least you never have to pay a bus fare again?” She countered.

Betty smiled, but got up, tiredness and emotional exhaustion taking over her. She needed a shower. She said a tired goodnight to Veronica, who smirked and wish her sweet dreams.

 _Ill have sweet dreams alright_ , Betty thought.

\---------------------------------------

On Monday, Betty woke to her alarm and a text message from Jughead.

**Morning Betty**

She woke up instantly, excitement jolting her insides.

**Morning, Juggie**

She typed, before stretching and rolling over, eager to start her day. She was ahead of school work, for once, and only needed to study a little bit before she could spend the day relaxing. It had been a while since she had been able to do the things she actually enjoyed, like baking and spending the day outside of her apartment. Today, she had a spring in her step. She could still feel the tingling sensations his lips had left on hers, and felt warm inside when she remembered his fevered gaze from the night before.

He liked her. She still couldn’t believe it. Veronica had shot her a knowing glance when she padded out to the kitchen, pouring herself a coffee from the pot. Betty, since last night, had been in various stages of excitement and embarrassment all at once. She knew that if she was idle today, she would end up down a wormhole of anxiety and inner turmoil – no, it was best just to avoid that entirely. And so Betty downed her coffee, got dressed, and grabbed her keys before telling Veronica she was going out for a grocery run, and she’d catch an Uber home.

Initially, when Betty moved in with Veronica, it was usually takeaways and ordering in for dinners and some breakfasts – the ones that Betty remembered to eat. It had taken a while for Betty to convince Veronica that homemade meals were actually healthier, and were more enjoyable that takeaways on any given night. It also gave Betty a sense of purpose, and she loved doing it, especially for friends.

It wasn’t until Betty was in the meat section of the grocer’s, though, when she realised something was off. She found nothing out of the ordinary when she straightened, glancing around surreptitiously, for any signs of danger. For some reason, her stomach had knotted and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She grabbed her phone out of her bag, thumbing through the messages before clicking on Jughead’s name. She knew he hadn’t replied, but she felt that uneasy she felt the need to talk to someone, just in case. Pondering for a while, she decided against it, and she closed her phone and placed it in her pocket, in reach if she needed it. She hadn’t been able to relax, even after getting to the checkout.

She’d ordered an Uber five minutes ago, but she knew it wouldn’t be here for at least another five. Her eyes nervously flitted around her as she loaded the food onto the conveyer belt, and found nothing suspicious, until – her heart stopped, then picked up tenfold as saw the man.

The same man from the night at the bus stop.

He wasn't doing anything, he wasn't causing a scene. He was just...staring at her, eyes hard and dark and devoid of warmth, and she felt a chill go through her. Her stomach roiled with anxiety and she struggled to think clearly, mind hazy with fear. Then, ever so slowly, he lifted one corner of his mouth up in a grin so cruel that she took a physical step backwards, and there was no doubt in her mind that this man had an ulterior motive.

Slowly, so as not to cause a scene, she turned away and placed the last of the items for the cashier to ring up. She then took out her phone, and sent a quick text to Veronica, asking to be picked up, the address - and tacked on the word _emergency_ at the last second. Once she had paid, she hovered by the checkouts with her bags, not being physically able to walk outside for fear of the man. She didn’t know what he was up to, she didn’t know why her, and it made her physically sick to think about it. She hadn’t glanced his way since, too anxious to make eye contact again. Her hands were sweaty and she struggled to hold onto the bags, her heart rate picking up when she felt her phone buzz in her pocket. Putting one bag down, briefly, she took the phone from her pocket, to find a reply. 

 **The car is outside. Are you okay? – V** Betty swiped out a _Yes_ with shaking hands, and grabbed both bags again before straightening, giving herself an air of false confidence as she rushed outside, spotting the car immediately. The driver was outside, frowning, expression clearing as he saw Betty and immediately rushed forward to grab the bags. She sighed in relief, and when she saw the driver – James, she remembered – finish packing the groceries, she hopped in the front seat, locking the door behind her.

James, to his credit, had asked her if everything was okay. His expression indicated he knew something was wrong, and was open and honest. Betty appreciated that, and had told him the bare minimum – that someone had been following her in the shops and she had felt scared. He had frowned even harder, then, not fully satisfied, but didn’t seem to want to push for details. Betty was thankful. She even remembered to cancel the Uber, finding it hard to press the right buttons on her phone while the adrenaline in her system waned.

When they reached the apartment, she declined James’s offer to carry the bags upstairs for her, telling him that she would be fine, and thanked him for his help. When she finally made it upstairs, Veronica was on her in an instant.

”B, what happened? Are you okay?” Veronica was frantic, rushing over immediately to Betty and grabbing her arms.

Betty felt the weight of the situation dawn on her, then, and she broke down, nervous tears welling in her eyes.

“Veronica, I think I have a stalker.” She whispered, fear leeching into her voice. “It was the same man.” Betty didn’t have to elaborate, because Veronicas eyes widened, and her lips went in a firm line.

“Fuck.” Was all she said, before enveloping Betty in a hug. Betty, adrenaline having worn off now, wanted to just sit down and think. She needed to protect herself, but she felt so silly because there was nothing she could do. She was just _Betty._ Veronica was still holding her tight, but she was speaking and Betty tried to focus on her words.

“What are you going to do? Will you tell Jughead tonight? And I will let Daddy know, if that’s okay with you, B.”

The onslaught of questions was too much for Betty, and she exhaled noisily, head spinning. She couldn’t tell Jughead, it was so _awkward_ to say and what was the point? He shouldn’t have to worry about her going to get groceries of all things. It wasn’t fucking fair.

After that, Veronica had helped her put away the groceries, sneaking glances at Betty every now and again, as if Betty would suddenly break down crying. It wasn’t making Betty angry, because Veronica only had her best interests at heart. It was just making Betty fully comprehend the seriousness of the situation – how could she leave the apartment now? She would be an anxious mess. So Betty announced that she was going to her room for a sleep – earning another sympathetic look from Veronica, but the girl nodded and let her pass. In her room, Betty allowed herself time to think. She sat on her bed, an ocean of anxiety swelling and rolling within her. Her nails dug into the skin of her forearm, hard enough to leave marks – but she hadn’t drawn blood yet. She couldn’t, she was doing so well.

_What did that man want with me? Why me? What did I do?_

The tears that had burned behind her eyes earlier sprung back, making it hard for Betty to breathe. There was no way she could focus on schoolwork now – every time she closed her eyes, the mans cruel smile burned against her eyelids and her heart would skip a beat. Like right now, when her phone buzzed against her thigh.

She jumped, cursing at herself, before fishing out her phone to see Jughead’s name.

 **How has your morning been?** She froze briefly, wondering if Veronica had told him, before shaking it off. Of course she wouldn’t have.

 **It’s been okay, what about you?** She sent back with a smile emoji, thinking she could fake her way out of this. His reply came a few minutes later, but it felt like hours to Betty.

 **I’ve been pretty busy. Work has been hectic**. Betty still didn’t know what he did for work, and her curiosity got the better of her.

 **What exactly do you do for work?** She typed and sent. This time, his reply took so long that Betty had no choice but to start getting ready for work. She was applying her mascara in the bathroom mirror when she heard the phone go off, and she forced herself not to rush over and snatch the phone from her bed.

 **I can’t really explain over text.** Was his mysterious reply, and anxiety swirled in Betty’s stomach again.

Why couldn’t he just tell her? Irritated, Betty threw her phone of the bed, for lack of a reply. She stalked to the bathroom to finish getting ready. When Veronica saw that Betty was heading to work, she stood off the couch immediately and phoned the driver, James. On Betty’s hesitant expression, she held up a firm hand.

“Betty, this is not negotiable. I want to know you are safe.” And with that logic, Betty couldn’t argue.

\---------------------

Work that night, for Betty, was a nightmare. In the space of a day, she had become paranoid. Every customer that walked in was a potential threat – the man hadn’t shown his face, but it was only a matter of time. He knew where she lived, where she shopped, he had to know where he worked. Once, on her shift, she had texted Jughead.

**Hey Jug. You’re still picking me up tonight, right?**

She had relaxed infinitesimally when he confirmed that yes, he was, but it didn’t douse the fear in her mind. She was jumpy and twitchy, and even Fangs had looked at her twice. He hadn’t said anything, but kept sending little frowns her way. Was she really that obvious? Her question was answered when she dropped an empty coffee mug, and could only watch as it fell to the ground and shattered. Apologies flooding from her mouth, she had picked up the broken pieces with shaking hands, before Fangs shooed her away to the back room to calm down. 

The time finally rolled around for Jughead to pick her up. Fangs was still there at the shop, saying he needed to finish off some paperwork. Betty had cleaned the whole shop twice, shut down the machines, and had run out of things to do, so she paced nervously from the storeroom, to the front, to the storeroom again. 8:04pm came around, and Betty saw Jughead’s frame through the glass of the front door. She threw off her apron, went around the back to clock off, grab her bag, and check her phone before she stalked out the front again, back stiff and movements jerky.

She saw Jughead, first, but noticed that he was frowning. _Why was he frowning?_ Then she saw Fangs, who had accosted Jughead at the door, and the pair were now whispering between themselves, Fangs looking worried and Jughead looking angry. Betty gulped, but then cleared her throat to announce her presence. Both of them looked up, and Jughead straightened then, giving Betty a strained smile that did nothing to ease her anxiety. Fangs didn’t meet her eyes until she walked over to them, sheepish about interrupting their conversation.

“Sorry, Fangs, for interrupting.” She told him, biting her lip. Jughead was looking at her like he was trying to figure something out. He even tilted his head, which would’ve made her laugh under normal circumstances. Instead, she fidgeted under his scrutiny. It was Fangs who broke the silence.

“Sorry, Betty, I’m holding up your ride home. I’ll see you tomorrow at three?” He didn’t smile, which was unusual for Fangs, and she nodded, unable to form words. And so Jughead grabbed the door handle, swinging it open for her as she walked out into the cold air of the night. When the door closed behind her, she turned to Jughead and offered him a small smile, genuinely happy to see him. She took a step closer, wanting to be near him again, but he held out a hand instead, making her pause, worrying her lip nervously.

“Hey, Jug.” She opened with, suddenly unsure again. His posture softened, but he didn’t smile.

“Hey Betty.” He cleared his throat. “Listen – Fangs told me you’ve been acting really jumpy today – is everything okay?”

Betty suddenly understood the tension from before, and she felt like an idiot for not picking up on it sooner.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. It’s just – I’m not at my best today.” She shuffled her feet. He sighed, and brought one hand up to rub the back of his head. He had that frown back on his face.

“It’s…it’s not me, is it? What happened last night…” In a rush, she understood.

“No! No, Jug, last night was amazing.” She looked up at his with earnest eyes, and took a step forward, wrapping her arms around his neck with more confidence than she felt, and she saw him relax under her touch. She toyed with the short hairs on the back of his neck. He slid his hands around her waist, then, bringing her closer to him for a hug that held her tight against him, and for the first time all day, she felt safe. Her body relaxed, just for a moment, before he let her go and guided her to his truck, posture more relaxed, but eyes still hovering over her. She couldn’t help it – just once, she glanced around the alley way in search of a man who wasn’t there, nerves coiling tight inside her. What if she got Jughead involved – god, he’d think she was stupid and paranoid, and she couldn’t possibly begin to tell him. She thought she had been subtle, but when her gaze landed on Jughead again, he was staring right at her, frown etched on his features. Even like this, he struck her with how handsome he was.

“Betty, who are you looking for?” His voice was low and even, concern shining in his eyes. Betty tensed, hands closing into fists.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He frowned harder this time.

“Betty, please – if it was enough to worry Fangs, it’s got me worried. Please tell me.” He stepped closer to her, hand going up to her cheek, even as he stared at her, seriousness written all over his face. Betty’s fists tightened even harder, and her breaths became shaky. He wouldn’t let up…maybe she should just tell him? Her heart beat fast at the prospect, thinking he would surely tell her she was being ridiculous. But his gaze really was concerned, and she thought _what the hell_.

So she blurted it out with a wobbly chin, urging herself not to cry. “When I was…today, I was shopping for food, I just looked up and…there was that man there, the one who followed me the other night at the bus stop. And he was looking right at me and he just smiled, and I panicked, and I know you probably think I’m being ridiculous..." She stopped, her voice going shaky. 

Jughead, to his credit, remained silent until this moment. His hand, the one placed on her cheek, had dropped and he had taken a step back. His shoulders, now tense, made his frame appear taller and the frown etched on his face was now murderous. His eyes had become hard, and he wasn’t breathing. His jaw was clenched, and from this distance she could see the muscles working, grinding his teeth and she winced, suddenly feeling small and annoying. Why had she told him anything?

“He didn’t touch you?” Jughead said softly, surprising her once again. His eyes bored into hers. 

Betty was taken aback by the question, and she shook her head no, tears now threatening to spill. Jughead blinked at this, and relaxed, and suddenly she was covered by him, breathing in his scent as he held her face into the crook of his neck. He was speaking, and Betty let herself be soothed by the words.

“Shh, I’m sorry, Jesus you had me worried. It’s okay, I’ve got you. God. So what happened? Are you okay?” Betty nodded into his neck, but it didn’t relax his hold in the slightest. She didn’t want to break down and cry, but she was coming close. She didn’t trust herself to speak. He pulled back then, eyes a stormy mix of emotions – anger, sadness, concern, and a fierceness that Betty hadn’t seen before on him. She blinked, overwhelmed, and found herself being herded to the passenger side door of his car. She got in, wobbly but grateful, and watched him as he rounded to his side, getting in and shutting the door with a bang.

“Lock the door.” He said with finality. She froze, fear making her heart jump into her throat. Jughead looked at her then, before his features softened into guilt. His eyes met hers, and he murmured an apology. Reaching for him, he allowed her to cross the seat so she could sit beside him, face pressed against his shoulder as he brought a hand up to her hair, to her face, before it finally settled on her neck. He kissed her forehead, just once, before he pulled back, forcing her to look up at him.

“Betty, we need to talk.” Doubt wormed its way into her mind. God, she had gone and confessed that to him and now he had decided that she was too high maintenance –

As if sensing her train of thought, he pressed her closer and whispered in her ear

“Hey, I like you. I really like you. There’re just some things about me that you deserve to know. You deserve so much more.” She swallowed her tears, feeling the anxiety ease fractionally.

“You- you like me?” She hiccupped, grinning up at him despite herself. His eyes didn’t leave hers.

“A ridiculous amount.” He confirmed. “But I shouldn’t be around you. Tonight’s only proven that.” He looked miserable, furious, and scared, the mix of emotions confusing Betty and she backed up, putting a hand to his face.

“Jug. Please tell me what’s going on.” He took a shuddering breath, before releasing it and she felt the muscles of his shoulders tense with anxiety.

“Have you heard of the Southside Serpents?”

\-----------------------

Betty was reeling from shock. She was currently sitting in a truck with the son of the leader of the fucking _Southside Serpents._ Her heart thundered in her chest, pounding away at a steady rhythm, and her hands were shaking from adrenaline. She sat, quietly, mind whirling at a mile a minute, her mother’s voice screaming in her head _gang members are murderers Betty_ _stay away from that crowd, I wont have you associating with those monsters_ ….over and over again. Jughead, for his part, hadn’t looked at her the whole time. He’d explained himself, calmly and rationally, eyes forward, shame evident on his face as he opened up about his past. Betty felt her heart go out to him, and her chest ached at what he must have gone through. _It all makes sense now._

And yet, when the pieces fell into place for Betty, she couldn’t help but think of Veronica, and Hiram, and how Veronica had been so good to Betty, that she honestly believed that character couldn’t be determined by the superficial anymore. Betty steeled herself then, asking one simple question.

“Have you hurt anyone?” Her voice, for the most part, didn’t wobble. But she sounded nervous, even to her own ears. He tensed, eyes hard, and whispered.

“No. I don’t – I’m not like that, Betty.” She let out the biggest breath she’d held in her life, and all the events of today came back to her in a rush. She hadn't imagined the protective stance of his shoulders. She hadn't missed the concern for her safety -  _put your seatbelt on,_ she remembered. She recalled his concern, only a week ago now, when she told him she was bussing it home, alone. 

And then, she thought, what about Fangs? And the others?  _Sweetpea?_ They'd offered her  _dinner,_ they'd offered her  _safety._ She felt warm, tears springing to her eyes as she remembers their conversation.  _We're like siblings,_ they'd said. 

“I don’t – Jug, I don’t care about it. Any of it. If you haven’t hurt anyone, why should I care? I’ve done things in my life I’m not proud of – we all have. And I can’t sit by and judge you for your past, or the present. I can’t be like my mother.” She finished in a whisper, chin trembling, and just wanting contact from him. She reached out, tears spilling down her cheeks as she let out a little hiccup, and she felt relief pour over her when he turned, grabbing her with the same desperation and holding onto her so tight she could scarcely breathe. He was whispering things into her ear.

“Jesus, Betty, thank you, thank god – I thought you’d never want to see me again.” She shook her heard resolutely, mouth set firm, and pulled back.

“Stop being ridiculous.” Jughead let out a startled laugh at that, and shook his head at her, smiling sadly. A thought occurred to her.

“So you think that the man following me has something to do with your gang?” She asked with watery eyes. He sighed, closing his eyes, shame and misery evident on his face.

“Not our gang. But yes, you’ve got the right idea. That’s exactly what I think. And I don’t, under any circumstances, want you dragged into this shit. Do you understand? This is serious. You can’t go telling people about me. I’m so sorry it has to be like this.”

Betty was too overwhelmed to formulate a reply, and exhaustion came over her, making her woozy. She closed her eyes and nodded instead, leaning into him, and his hand tightened briefly, before letting go. She heard the engine roar to life, and the car moved then, taking her home to safety.

\-------------------------

After Jughead had pulled up outside her apartment building, he apparently saw fit to see her inside as well. She had put her key in the security door, and hesitated, before looking up at him, eyes a little sore from crying. 

“Did you want to come up?” She asked, hope swirling inside her chest. He was looking around them, expression dark in a way that made her feel protected and safe, and made her insides burn in a way that startled her. He looked _sexy._

Jughead looked right at her then, before raising an eyebrow and smirking. She realised too late the implications of her words, and flushed a deep red, before trying to stutter out a frankly incoherent follow on.

“I mean – no, just that, well, I didn’t want to – well I _do,_ it’s not what I meant though – oh god, _sorry.”_ She brought a hand up to cover her eyes, mortification taking over.

“Betty, I’d love to.” Still reeling from her idiocy, she removed her hand from her face and hedged a peek at his face. It was sincere and honest, but his eyes were twinkling with mirth and not for the first time tonight, her breath was stolen away at how beautiful he was.

She nodded, smiling back at him, and opened the door to let him in. She knew Veronica would be home, and she would have questions, but Betty also knew she would wait until the next day to ask them. When the two finally reached the front door, Betty opened it as quietly as she could, hoping the other girl would be sound asleep. Her hopes were founded, as there was no sign of the girl and the lights were out. Betty motioned for Jughead to follow her to the lounge room, where she turned the lights on and he gazed around, captivated.

“Betty, this apartment is amazing. I definitely don’t deserve to be here.” He was rooted to the spot, eyes wide. Betty tutted softly.

“Jug, that’s not fair. Besides, nothing in here is mine, we are very much equal as far as wealth goes. I don’t have anything in my name – Veronica was good enough to let me stay here as her roommate.” She explained, already being accustomed to the expensive interior décor. She flopped down on the leather couch she had grown to love. Nevertheless, he shook his head, stunned. Betty motioned for him to join her, and he walked with silent footsteps towards her only to perch himself stiffly on the edge of the cushions. She frowned, reaching for him and pulling him towards her. He resisted only for a second, before falling back to join her with a huff. She grinned, pleased. They sat in silence for thirty seconds, Jughead apparently still reeling from the level of comfort the couch was providing, before a familiar sense of dread overcame Betty. The silence was back, and with it came the sense of being alone, of fear, and her insides reeled. She felt herself tensing all over again, and worried her bottom lip between her teeth. He rubbed her arms in response, pulling her even closer.

He kissed the top of her head, and her head flopped against his chest, as she fought back a yawn of exhaustion. He pulled back, frowning.

“You need sleep.”

She agreed with him, really she did, but fought with him petulantly.

“Can you stay five more minutes?” She pouted, eyes half closed. Jughead had agreed, reluctantly.

But it wasn’t until a half hour later when Betty was wishing him goodbye at the front door, sleepy smile fixed on her face, and a warm feeling creeping down her spine. Geez, she had it bad.

\---------------------------

The next day, Betty had woken up, warm feeling still creeping over her skin, creating goose bumps that she couldn’t shake. Maybe it was a coping mechanism, her body overriding the terror of yesterday – but maybe, she thought, she was falling in love. 

_When did I get so damn sappy?_

Instead of feeling crazy, which she probably was, she felt powerful. She had been in a state of arousal since he’d left last night - she swore she could still smell him on her skin, and deep down she knew she wanted him, and badly. But he’d seemed hesitant with her last night. She’d go to kiss him, and he would stop things before it could get too far – it was beyond frustrating. He’d liked her, hadn’t he? Maybe he just needed a little push…

She glanced at the clock on the wall, reading 10:04am. She’d tried to study, but to be honest, her focus was sloppy, to say the least. She sat back on her desk chair, exhaling in defeat. Apprehensively, she wondered what Veronica would do in this situation. She couldn’t very well ask the girl, as she had left at seven this morning for a class. Tilting her head, she considered…

An idea whirred in her mind, and she considered it for the briefest of seconds before shaking herself, dismissing the thought.

But then…

She glanced at her chest of drawers, idea gaining traction. Maybe, just maybe, she could show Jughead just how much she wanted him…she knew that somewhere in those drawers lay the soft pink lingerie set that Veronica had gotten her for her 19th birthday, never used, never worn. Betty idly wondered if it even fit her and considered…well, it wouldn’t hurt just to _try it on,_ would it?

Five minutes later, Betty realised that while she had never told Veronica her measurements, the girl seemed to have an eye for sizing because the pair fit _perfectly._ Betty even loved the colour. But she couldn’t send a photo of this to Jughead, could she? She looked in the mirror, pink lace making her skin look tan in the bedroom’s lighting and sighed. She tried to see her body through Jughead’s eyes – flat, taut stomach, skinny – no, _slender_ arms and long, toned legs. Goosebumps prickled her skin at the thought of what she was about to do – but… she trusted Jughead and wanted him to want her as much as she did him. Her insides burned with excitement. With that thought cementing the idea in her mind, she laid down on the bed, belly stretching out, and reached for her phone. She held it above her head, angling so that the pink lace was visible, and took the photo.

She took a few more before she ended up being happy with the result, and quickly typed out a message to Jughead before she could lose her cool.

 **What are you doing right now?** She sent. She waited, staring at her phone screen like a psycho. She didn’t expect a reply straightaway, but after a couple of minutes her phone buzzed in her hands.

 **Just at home. What about you, babe? Everything alright?** She smiled goofily at the pet name. She’d never been called babe before and used to think it was silly. Now she felt amazing whenever the word passed his lips. Inhaling, she selected the picture, and hit send before she could back out.

Her hands were shaking with anxiety – she hoped he wouldn’t be angry. Instantaneously, she got a reply.

 **Fucking hell.** She gulped, nervous, and typed out an _**I’m sorry**_ … and hit send.

 **Don’t be**. Came the reply. She paused, wondering what to do now, had she made things awkward?

 **God, you’re fucking beautiful. I wish I was there.** And then,

 **I can’t stop looking, baby.** She smiled, still nervous, but his words instilling bravery in her. She typed out her reply.

 **Want more?** She paused, phone buzzing after a few seconds.

**Please**

She hesitated again. This was territory she had never crossed before with Jughead. She slipped down one strap of her bralette, exposing a pale nipple to the cold air, which peaked immediately in protest. Goosebumps followed her fingers as she brushed a hand over it, hissing. Grabbing the phone again, she took the photo, too aroused now to care about what it looked like. She hit send, hoping it wasn’t too far, but the wetness pooling in between her legs felt too good to stop.

_Who am I?_

Her phone vibrated, making Betty jump at how quick the reply was.

She clumsily used one hand to open the message.

**Jesus, Betty.**

She typed out a hazy reply, before sending.

**I want you to touch me.**

A few seconds stretched out, and she waited, suddenly anxious again, tapping her nails against her lips, when he replied.

**Is anyone home?**

Her breath caught in her throat, realising what he was asking. With shaking fingers, she typed out a single word.

 **No**.

She watched the screen as he typed a reply.

**I’m coming over.**

She felt another wave of heat come over her, anticipation coiling in her stomach like a coil ready to spring. She _needed_ him.

 **I’ll buzz you in when you get here** , she sent simply. About twenty minutes later, her phone buzzed. She had been aimlessly wandering the apartment, shifting things around and shuffling about nervously. Her body was wound tight.

**I’m here**

Betty raced to the intercom, buzzing him in, and waited for the knock at the front door. She was in the hallway, fingertips digging into her palms but not marking them. She hadn’t even gotten dressed again – maybe she should have? But too late now, because a knock signalled at the door. She took a deep breath in, striding to the front door and opening it, keeping herself out of view behind the door.

Jughead stood there, panting, beanie missing and hands shaking.

“Can I come in?” He ground out. Betty blushed, let out a shaky breath, and opened the door wider, still obscuring her body from view. He took a few tentative steps through the door, before she shut it firmly behind him, locking it securely. Betty heard Jughead’s unsteady exhale, and turned to face him, apology on her lips, before it was silenced with a searing kiss that had her gasping into his mouth. He brought shaking hands up to her face, placing a hand on her cheek, and one on the side of her neck, gently, like he was holding back. He grunted softly when she threw both hands up to his neck, stretching herself out against him and feeling the hard planes of his chest. After a few seconds, he slowed his movements, pulling back and grabbing her arms, dragging them down and pinning them to her sides. She blinked, confused.

“Baby, you can’t just send me photos like that. Jesus, it made me fucking crazy. I don’t want to do anything too soon.”

Betty whined vivaciously. “But I wanted you to think I’m pretty.” She told him breathlessly. It was hard to concentrate when he was this close, and she was partially naked. Oh God. Her core throbbed, and her heart was pounding.

“Jesus,” He said again, jaw clenched. “Slow down, baby.” He murmured against her hair, before breathing in long and deliberate.

“What if I don’t want to go slow?” She pulled back, frowning up at him. He frowned right back at her.

“You don’t?” He asked dumbly, releasing the breath he had been holding. Betty shook her head no.

“Juggie, I don’t usually do this. But there’s something about you…I trust you, and I don’t think I can wait. Please, Jug.” She begged. He pulled back completely, a solemn look on his face. He searched her face, and said clearly.

“Are you sure?” Betty sensed his seriousness and looked straight back at him, unblinking, with wide eyes.

“Yes.” Was all she said.

Jughead’s crooked smile burst onto his face then, and he grabbed her waist, pulling her closer to him once again, and slid his hands around to hold her hips, stroking the skin there. She tilted her face up to his, and she tried to reach up to his lips to taste them again, but he held her in place, smile softening. When he kissed her this time, it was slow, languid, and Betty felt it down to the tips of her toes. Goosebumps rose on her skin, and she whimpered into his mouth, struggling against his hold because she wanted to _touch_ him. He relaxed his grip then, and she felt hot and heavy, woozy with arousal.

Seeing the hooded look on her face, Jughead groaned, long and low, and grabbed each of her thighs and lifted her off the ground, wrapping both of her legs around his waist as he backed her up against the wall, his kiss now hot and desperate. Betty ran her hands through his hair, holding on for dear life as he pressed himself into her, rolling his hips just once, but it sent a jolt through her that had her gasping for more. She whined, hating that he was still clothed, and said as much.

“Juggie, take this off.” She panted, pulling at his shirt and he shuddered, but didn’t move to strip. Instead, his hand worked its way around to the back of her head, pulling her off the wall but supporting her as he held her against him. His breaths were coming hard and fast, as he went in for another desperate kiss, lips so soft and she wondered what he’d be like _down further..._ and another wave of arousal burned through her. The sensation of being so bare and vulnerable when he was still fully clothed was odd, but she felt powerful in the way she affected him.

No, instead of undressing himself, the hand against her head slid down to the clip of her bra, deftly undoing it and letting it fall to the floor before Betty even realised what had happened. She whimpered, shy all over again, and wiggled one arm around from his head to cover herself, ducking her head into the crook of his neck, mouthing her way along his jawline. She felt his pulse, quick and thready, against her lips. Jughead’s hands threaded through her hair, gently pulling her back and she keenly obeyed. His gaze was dark, darker than she had ever seen in him, and his expression was fierce.

“Don’t ever hide yourself from me.” Even his voice was dark, edged with danger and seriousness, but it sent a wave of arousal through Betty, She was desperate to relieve this ache in her belly, desperate for Jughead’s touch. She dropped arm, instead sliding it down his clothed chest.

“Please, Juggie.” She whispered. He shuddered again, before his gaze dropped down to her chest when he swore and closed his eyes, panting.

“Where’s the bedroom?” He managed to say roughly, still holding her up, and she marvelled at how easy the action was for him. She wriggled against him, keening out a “to the left, down the hall” and he walked in long strides to reach the door way. He pushed the door open with his foot, and eyes immediately finding the bed, fell to his knees on the mattress, and lowered her gently beneath him, hovering over her. His lips found purchase on her neck, the softness of them leaving goose bumps and she arched into him, parting her shaking legs and he gave a deep grunt of approval.

His mouth moved, then, down to her collarbones, then her sternum, and then, with his eyes closed, took one pink nipple into his mouth, smiling when she keened and clawed at him for more. Jolts of arousal shot through her, and she felt as though she needed so much more.

“Please, _please_ take this off, Jug.” She cried out, managing to pulled the shirt up around his shoulders, and he opened his eyes then, looking up at her, before groaning and sitting up to strip his shirt over his head. He was on her again in an instant, and she sighed happily at the feel of his hot skin on hers. This time, though, he didn’t kiss her. Instead, he worked his way down her body, kissing her navel, her tummy, and lower, making her gasp in realisation.

“Jug, what are - ”

“Shh, baby.” He crooned, smile soft as he settled between her legs on the edge of the bed. “I’ll take care of you.”

And then, through seam of her panties, she felt his warm hand caress the lace, edging its way down. Slowly, so slowly that it was almost torture, so slowly that she was quivering by the time they reached her ankles. He pulled them off, throwing them somewhere, and she felt exposed to him, finally. Her legs spread out already, Jughead held them in place, giving her a warning glare when she tried to close them, and she stopped the motion immediately, the need for release taking over. Glancing back down, finally, he blew out a breathy  _"Fuck,"_ and the warm air hit her right _there,_ and she threw her head back, gasping at the sensation.

Jughead was looking up at her in amazement when she finally opened her eyes again, dizzy with the need for him, and her hooded gaze was enough to spur him into action. His mouth descended on her, and when it did, she almost let go right then and there. She was slick from the start, and he let out a guttural sound as her back arched, and her hands tried to find purchase in his hair. Her cries echoed in the tiny room, but he didn’t seem to mind as his tongue worked her, eyes dark as he stared at her face. Pleasure coursed through her, and she was unaware that something like this could feel this good. _She was so close_ – Suddenly, he stopped, pupils blown wide and hands shaking.

“Fuck, baby, I can’t wait anymore. You’re so fucking _wet_ –“

“Please, Juggie,” she sobbed in response, “I need you. Please.”

Rising quickly, he shucked off his jeans, leaving the belt in place to pool around his feet, and she had a second to comprehend that he had gone _commando_ before he was right there, hips aligning with hers so that she could feel how hard he was, sliding against her wet heat, and he hissed, eyes scrunched up. Her legs parted even more, if possible, and rolled up once to entice him into hurrying up. Why wasn’t he _moving?_

“Betty, I have to get protection.” He ground out against her neck, jaw clenched.

_What?_

“What?” She asked through the haze of arousal, eyes blinking in confusion.

“Protection, Betty.” He gestured to the general area of his jeans, and her eyes widened in comprehension.

“I’m on the pill.” She whimpered, her nails scraping down his back, not scratching, but hard enough for him to hiss in pleasure again. He grunted, getting a hand beneath him to lift himself up.

“Are you sure? I’m clean – do you trust me?” He gritted his teeth when she rolled her hips again, sliding her sex against his length in such a delicious way that she cried out at her own actions. He was staring down at her, his gaze more piercing than she’d ever seen.

“Yes, Jug.” She breathed against his chest. And that was enough. Slowly, he lined himself up with her and inch by inch, slid himself in. His hand beside her head was clenched against the pillow as his other hand went down to her hip, holding her down when she tried to rise up to meet him. Betty felt the delicious stretch as her body tried to accommodate him, and she felt wetter than she had ever been before. Then he slid out again, making her whine, before pushing himself back in, tension in his shoulders as he grunted.

“Fuck.” He swore through gritted teeth, stilling suddenly. She stopped then, too, because something was obviously wrong.

“Jug?” She asked nervously, eyes going wide with concern. He took a deep breath in.

“I’m sorry, baby. It’s been a while.” The tension in his shoulders didn’t let up. “And never with someone so fucking beautiful.” He mumbled, so softly that she barely heard. If Betty were a better person, she would’ve given him the time he needed. Instead, however, as she felt his shoulders begin to relax, she grinned, arousal flaring again, wiggling against his hold even as he scowled at her, shoulders going stiff again.

“Betty.” He said warningly. She wailed softly, trying to gain friction any way she could, but his hold was strong. She leaned up to his chest, placing soft kisses there, teasing him. He blew out a breath, face clearing, before releasing his hold on her hip and drawing himself before sliding himself in again, slowly and gently. She didn’t want slow and gentle. She needed more.

“Jug, let go.” She whispered - no,  _begged_ into his neck, and he grunted, a feral growl ripping itself from his throat as she was suddenly holding on for dear life as his thrusts increased in tempo, now strong and steady and making her cry out from the heat and delicious friction, driving her closer and closer to the edge. 

She felt his hands in her hair, grasping but not pulling, anchoring himself to her. Each thrust worked the string of tension tighter in her belly, so tight that she could barely stand it.

“Baby, you’re so wet, so beautiful.” Jughead gasped out, rising from her neck to press another hot kiss to her mouth, even as she keened, feeling the beginning of her release wash over her.

“Juggie, I’m going to – “

“Let go, Betts, god, _please.”_ He begged, echoing her words, and watched, stormy eyes never leaving her face as she went under. She writhed, pleasure coursing through her so intense, tears sprung into her eyes. Jughead let out long, deep growl against her chest, and his eyes broke contact with hers as he gave two more rough, unsteady thrusts and she felt the rush of heat between her legs as he came, eyes shut and jaw clenched, hands shaking in her hair. His soft sighs became less intense, and the tension seemed to drain from his shoulders as he opened his eyes, staring at Betty with an unfathomable expression – she couldn’t focus, she felt almost drunk from the pleasure.

One of his hands let go, then, sliding down her neck and then caressing her hip. His other hand he used to push himself up and off her, rolling to her side and pulling her on top of him. She went, more than willingly, and splayed both legs over his hips, leaning down for a kiss. His breathing, still harsh, stopped for a second as he groaned against her mouth, before breaking contact again. Shyly, she pressed a kiss to his cheek, then jaw, then down his chest where she rested her chin, staring up at him with wide, happy eyes.

“Betty, baby, you did so well.” He leaned up, keeping her to his chest, and peppered soft kisses over her face, making her flush in pleasure. _I think I have a newly discovered praise kink…_ she thought absentmindedly, giggling over his attentions.

“I think it was all you.” She grinned drowsily at him. He pulled back, smiling softly, and lowered his gaze to her chest, eyes still dark, and he leant in to kiss each of her nipples again.

“So pretty.” He murmured against her chest. She flushed a bright red, embarrassed to have them on display now that the burn of her arousal was temporarily assuaged. At her little intake of breath, he looked up at her, and grinned stupidly.

“How can you blush right after what we just did?” He chuckled, eyes full of mirth.

“I’m not used to having people stare at my chest.” She said, giggling through her embarrassment. He hummed.

“I’m surprised, you wouldn’t be short of suitors surely.” She wiggled her hips a little, slightly embarrassed now.

“I don't, really. Have any, I mean.” She murmured, looking down. At her sudden change in demeanour Jughead frowned.

“Sorry, baby.” He cuddled her close, squeezing her playfully. Betty let the feeling of warmth, safety and _comfort_ wash over her, relishing it. She inhaled, pressing her face into the crook of his neck, surrounded by the intoxicating smell, feel, touch that was Jughead. She wished she could stay here forever. 

“Can we do this again soon, Juggie?" She asked, green eyes hopeful. He stared at her for several seconds before a slow, lazy smile plastered itself on his face.

“Any time you wish.” Was his reply. 

They spent the rest of the day in various positions, and in various stages of nakedness. At twelve, they had put on a movie, which one Betty was still hazy on, and kissed the afternoon away. At one, Jughead had sighed, saying he had to go, because he had actual responsibilities to attend to. At two, Jughead still hadn’t left. Eventually, Betty had shoved him out the door, giggling stupidly, with a _call me when you can_. She felt better than she had in days.

\-----------------------------------------

A few weeks went by without incident, and Betty had felt herself become less paranoid over the course of them. She’d gone back to riding the bus to work after a week, much to the disgruntlement of both Veronica and Jughead. She’d rationalized with them, saying that she if hadn’t seen the man in this long, he may have given up.

Jughead and Betty had gotten progressively closer every day. He found any excuse to touch her, and she revelled in the sensation of having someone who adored her. She often found him just staring at her, an unfathomable look in his eyes, and he would smile softly, one corner of his mouth lifted up, in an expression she had learnt quickly was reserved just for her. It warmed her insides when she saw it, and she would have to quell the rush of heat his gaze produced. A few times, Jughead had brought food over to her at the apartment, causing Veronica to raise eyebrows at the pair before retiring to her room. The black-haired girl had called it being _sexiled,_ but Betty had rolled her eyes at the girl’s dramatics, because Jughead never wanted to do anything unless they were alone, _really_ alone.

Once, she had asked him why, and he told her, quite brazenly, that it was because he wanted to hear her moan and didn’t want her holding back. Upon hearing those words, she had flushed from her toes to her hairline, and hid under his arm when he laughed at her bashfulness.

(He didn’t laugh when he turned up at her apartment one day to see her dressed in his serpent jacket, and _only_ his serpent jacket.)

All in all, Betty had become head over heels for the son of the Serpent King, and she couldn’t have been happier. She knew he couldn’t tell her everything. She knew he couldn’t tell her where he lived, or about everything he did during the day. She agreed that the less she knew, the better. It didn’t stop the miserable look on his face when she asked, or the guilt that rolled off him in waves when she tried to get him to open up about his way of life. She wanted to know it all, good or bad, and had told him as much. But she understood it was for her own protection – the less she knew, the better. Which applied to most things...

...except for this. 

“Juggie, c’mon. Please? I’ve seen you naked, and you refuse to tell me this?” Betty begged, straddling his lap and placing persuasive kisses over his face. Jughead wasn’t laughing, though. He was frowning, tense and annoyed, which made Betty erupt into another peal of giggles.

“Surely it can’t be that bad?” She tried again.

“Betty, no. I’m not telling you. Not negotiable.” He tried to get her off his lap to stand, but she clung onto him for dear life and he gave up quickly, sighing in defeat.

“I’m not telling you my real name.” He repeated weakly.

She sighed then, smile still plastered on her face, before throwing him a white flag.

“Sorry, Jug, I was just testing out my powers of persuasion. I’ll find out one day.” She thought vaguely, that perhaps if she was _naked_ right now, she might have some leverage….

“Betty, it’s impossible for you to have any more power over me…I’m already a goner…” He murmured against her neck, leaning in and inhaling her scent, before releasing her completely.

“I’m really sorry, baby, but I really have to go this time. I don’t think I’ll be long…” He trailed off, eyes guilty, and she nodded, not letting the disappointment show on her face. She knew if it did, it would only make him feel worse. He was already under so much pressure, she couldn’t do that to him.

“It’s okay, Jug. I know you’ll call me when you can.” She leant in for one last kiss, which he happily granted her, before he stood, shucking on his jacket. She led him to the front door, where he turned around and enveloped her in a tight hug, and she melted into him, feeling protected.

He left then, without a backwards glance, and she stood at the doorway for a few minutes, adjusting to an afternoon without him. She had work at three, she knew that. But it was only one, and she didn’t know what she’d do until then. She could always study but…lately, without Jughead’s knowledge, she had been thinking of dropping this semester, and taking up again next semester to study creative writing. It was what she wanted to do, and being with Jughead had made her understand how important it was to follow your dreams. She snorted, thinking of how tacky that sounded, but felt it rang true none the less. The more time she spent with Jughead, the less she thought about her mother – the less she _was_ her mother. Her decisions weren’t influence by some baseless fear that her mother was always watching, and she felt free, finally, from the control the woman had over her life. Alice hadn’t even called…which still made Betty’s heart hurt.

Nevertheless, instead of studying, she spent some time in the kitchen, baking some simple chocolate chip cookies – the ones that were deliciously gooey in the middle – and placed them on the counter when she was done, with a note for Veronica that read _Baked you some cookies, you deserve it xx._ After that, Betty found herself getting ready for work, slowly and methodically so as to waste time, and to kill the thoughts that were whirring around in her head. An hour later, and Betty found herself in front of the coffee shop, spying Cheryl’s bike, which made her perk up and she walked through the doors with a spring in her step.

When Jughead and Betty had first made it apparent that they were together, they hadn’t even meant to. Jughead had turned up one night, and greeted her with that smile, and it wasn’t even half a second later before they’d heard Fangs hoot from behind the counter, picking up on the body language between the pair before Betty even had time to register it. He’d been over the moon for them both, and thanked them because they had just won him “the bet”.  _God._

Jughead had grumbled, and Betty had blushed, wondering who the bet involved – quite frankly, she wasn’t sure if she even wanted to know.

Life at the coffee shop had gone on after that, without much change. Cheryl had received her chocolate sundae from Pop’s, only after she walked in on Jughead pressing a kiss to Betty’s nose one afternoon in the storeroom. The red headed girl, to her credit, had simply raised an eyebrow, rolled her eyes and mumbling something about _cuteness factor_ and had turned on her heel and walked back out again. Betty appreciated Cheryl’s tact, knowing that she wasn’t as nosy as Veronica, but still cared deeply for people under that ice-queen exterior.

Walking in today, Cheryl shot her a warm smile, friendlier than usual. Betty smiled back, genuinely happy to be spending the afternoon here. The two girls chatted for a while, catching up briefly, before the older girl stated that she had to leave soon – she had a date. Betty had raised an eyebrow at Cheryl, then, attempting to copy the knowing look that the red head had perfected. Cheryl just rolled her eyes, but before she turned away Betty saw the corner of her mouth tilt up in a grin.

Betty had stopped Cheryl before she left, pulling the taller girl in for a quick hug, telling her good luck before she walked out the door, a small smile dancing on her lips. Life was finally on the up for her.

A few hours later, at about 6:30, Betty checked her phone only to realise she had missed a call from Jughead. Checking once more out the front for any customers, she pressed the dial button, and waited for him to pick up. He never usually called her unless it was important, so his call had sent a jolt of panic down her spine.

He picked up quickly, huffing out a “Betty,” through the receiver. She stiffened, hearing the worry in his voice.

“Hey, Jug. Is everything okay?” She asked tensely.

“Listen, you need to tell Fangs he needs to drop you home, okay?” She froze, the sentence taking her by surprise, and knew that Fangs had left a little while ago to go home himself. She was quiet for a moment, considering telling him Fangs wasn’t even here, before deciding against it. He sounded frantic, and she didn’t want to make him worry even more. She would take the bus home, remembering that even Veronica was at a late class. She repeated her earlier words.

“I will, Jug. Is everything okay?” She made her voice calm and neutral, and was successful apart from the little wobble in her voice when she said his name. He sighed into the receiver.

“The trucks broken down. We don’t know what’s wrong with it, but I won’t get to you in time to take you home. I’m sorry.” She shook her head stupidly before realising he couldn’t see her.

“It’s okay, you have nothing to be sorry for. I’ll make it home safe, okay?” She bit her lip, only slightly worried about the bus ride home, because she hadn’t seen her stalker in over two weeks. She would be fine this once.

“Be safe, baby.” Was all he said before she whispered goodbye, and heard the click of the receiver, signalling he had hung up.

After that, the rest of her shift went smoothly, and she only had a few more customers wander in before close. The closer it got to eight, the more she became tense and jumpy. Having clocked out, she turned all the machines off, followed by the lights, scaring herself at the sudden darkness. Stifling down the anxiety that had wormed its way inside her, she locked the door with shaking fingers before making her way to the bus stop. It was only a three hundred metre walk, if that, and she urged herself faster, knowing that she needed to get home safe.

Before she knew it, the bus stop was upon her, and she sat down with a few other people waiting for the bus, eyeing them worriedly. The old man she recognised as a regular on this bus. The other young girl who couldn’t have been much older than Betty didn’t look like a threat. But then again, Betty figured she was being paranoid, and stopped for fear of looking crazy. Instead, she played with her phone in her hand, and kept her bag slung firmly over her shoulder. She heard the bus before she saw it, and it rounded the corner a half second later, at 8:05pm sharp. The bus ride itself was uneventful. This late, there were only a few commuters, and after a quick scan, she confirmed she didn’t recognise any faces, and relaxed. She was really being ridiculous.

Her stop was now only ten minutes away, and she needed only to hold onto her sanity for that long. The stop arrived altogether too quickly for Betty. When the doors opened, she got up, posture stiff with anxiety, and walked down the two steps to the pavement, smiling briefly at the driver before he drove off, tired and uncaring. She gripped her bag and started a very fast pace towards her building, which wasn’t far off. It’d only be a few more minutes, and she’d be home.

But she never got home.

Betty’s heart had stopped the moment the rag went over her face, stifling her scream. She had dropped her phone and heard it clatter to the ground when she reached up and attempted to rip the material off her face, a knee jerk reaction. She felt the horrible rush of terror flood her system, heart now pounding harder than it ever had in her life. She tried to breath in, but couldn’t, the rag too tight, and it was a few more seconds before she felt an arm snake around her waist in an iron grip, dragging her backwards off her feet, and she felt the concrete drag under her heels as she tried to right herself. She flailed, but the rag got even tighter when she struggled. Finally, she felt herself thrown to the ground, the rag gone, and gasped for air, arms to her chest, folding into herself in fear.

She was disorientated, confused, and as she struggled to get her breath back, she registered the presence of two people standing over her. She didn’t know where she was, but at her best guess, she figured she’d be in an alley somewhere near her building. She tried to look around and gain her bearings, but found only darkness, the sole light source coming from above her head. As her eyes adjusted, she heard a laugh. It was cruel, cold, and Betty felt a rush of pure, unadulterated terror. She trembled, eyes wide, looking up to where the laugh came from. It was then Betty realised – the laugh had come from a woman.

“I didn’t realise Jughead was into blondes.” The woman continued, stooping down so that Betty was finally able to see her face.

The only word that Betty could use to describe her was evil. There was no remorse, no emotion of any kind, just cruelty and coldness reflected in her eyes. Betty nearly started crying then and there, but steeled herself, taking a shaky breath – how did this lady know Jughead?

“H-how do you kn-know Jughead?” She managed to stammer out, breath coming way to fast for her to speak properly. She tried to make her voice sound brave, but realised she had failed miserably when the woman let out another cackle.

“Oh, man, I am going to have some fun with you. Hey, Jordan, don’t you like blondes, too?” She questioned, looking up at the man standing beside her. Betty felt the fear grip her heart even tighter, and used her hands to drag herself away from them both, only to have her back hit something hard – she looked up, noticing the dark grey bricks blocking her only path out. _Fuck._ She let out a squeal of fear when the man grabbed the front of her shirt, dragging her upwards, and she heard a few buttons rip. She saw his face clearly then, and tried to let out a scream when she instantly recognised him as the man who had stalked her these past few weeks. He was wearing that smile again, one that made her want to vomit.

Her scream abruptly stopped, and she nearly passed out with dread when she felt something cold press against her throat, pressure making her stop moving altogether. Not needing to glance down to check, she knew he’d brought a knife to her throat. The woman continued.

“Jordan, the next time she screams, I want you to cut her.” Tears spilled over Betty’s cheeks, and she couldn’t even hide her fear. She was pathetic, weak, and knew she was going to die tonight. She felt desperate to get out of this situation at any cost, but could no longer struggle for fear of her life.

“What do you want?” She asked meekly, the knife against her throat making her voice huskier than usual, and tears making her voice thick. She tried to swallow, to breathe, only to cough against the knife as it pressed even harder. She started to feel dizzy with lack of oxygen. The woman’s face became serious.

“We want the address of FP and Jughead Jones. Where’s their hideout?” Betty was thrown. She had no idea, and the hopelessness of the situation dawned on her. She sobbed quietly, not being able to help it, and yelped out _I don’t know_ when Jordan jerked her roughly, slamming her into the wall. Pain shot down her back, her shoulder digging into the bricks. The woman sighed, shaking her head in mock sadness.

“I figured you’d say that. Jordan, choke her out.” The evil grin on Jordan’s face became wider, crazier with the high of causing her pain. Betty felt the increased pressure on her windpipe, and grappled futilely against the man’s grip. She scrabbled, unable to breathe, and she felt pain suddenly flare across her neck like fire. Her vision blurred, and black sports started to appear. She felt more tears flood over her cheeks, this time a reflex from lack of air. At the last minute, from some unheard command, he let the pressure on her neck go, and she gasped noisily, only semi-conscious now, the only thing holding her upright was his hard grip on her shirt. The woman let out a noise of disapproval.

“Betty, Betty. Tell us and this all goes away. Jughead doesn’t have to know.” At this, Betty shook her head, eyes wide, a futile anger building up inside her, making her more awake.

“No, you – you don’t..don’t hurt him, leave him out of this.” She managed, and she didn’t recognise her own voice. She was still gasping for air, holding onto the man’s arm, weakly fighting him. It was all so pointless. At this, both the woman and the man let out a startled laugh, mocking and hard. The man groaned, then, recovering faster than the woman before shocking Betty down to the core when he leaned in and licked her tear-stained cheek. He spoke for the first time, and his words made the bile rise up in Betty’s throat, and she nearly dry heaved with disgust.

“Penny, can I, _please?_ You know I love it when they cry.” His breath washed over her skin, making her skin crawl and caused a fresh wave of tears flood her eyes. He pressed himself closer to her at her reaction, and she felt his hardness through the material of her jeans. She whimpered in terror, struggling with all her strength.

Penny laughed fully and loudly. “Oh, I know. I think – “

Penny’s eyes flashed with fury when a loud ring echoed through the alleyway, startling all three parties. Betty was so out of her mind with fear that she didn’t recognise her own ringtone – her phone was still lying on the ground, glowing now and she knew instantly it would be Jughead. Penny raised an eyebrow, grinning manically, before striding over and picking up the phone. She opened it, and seeing that it was the man in question, looked at Betty with renewed vigour in her cold eyes.

“Jordan, move to the side a little. I think I want to send our friend Jughead a lovely warning – considering we aren’t going to get anything out of this little _fucking whore.”_ Her voice changed at the end, coming closer to Betty and spitting in her face, disgust and frustration evident in her tone. Jordan thrust once more against Betty, groaning, before moving to the side slightly so Penny could see her face. Betty knew then, what she intended to do. The flash flew over Betty’s eyes, making her flinch, and she let out another sob, feeling the knife dig in even harder. Penny’s eyes shone with glee, and she giggled before typing out a caption, pausing only once.

“What do you think, Betty Boop? Too graphic? No, let’s send it. I’ll leave you here for him to find. Fucking _pathetic.”_ Penny sent the message then, before Betty could even see it. “Oh and Betty, make sure Jughead gets his truck fixed, would you? We’d hate for this to happen again.” She laughed manically, and grabbed Jordan by the collar of his shirt.

“Jordan, let’s go. I don’t have time for this shit. You’ll need to find somewhere else to bury that thing.” She paused, momentarily, before smiling evilly at Betty again.

Jordan protested, shrugging her off initially, mouthing at Betty’s neck. Betty struggled again, whimpering in fear and terror, hoping to God that Jughead would find her soon. It was all she could think about. Please, please. Jughead, where are you? She couldn’t formulate words anymore, her throat hurt, she wanted to scream –

“Fuck, Jordan, I’ll tear that thing off, I swear. We’ve got to go.” Penny’s voice was frantic now.

At this, Jordan lifted his head, pupils dilated and smile making Betty’s insides heave in revulsion. Like a sack of potatoes, he dropped her to the ground, and she was finally able to breathe fully for the first time. She grasped her throat, dizzy and heaving, trying to gain her bearings again. By the time she brought her hands underneath herself to scrabble away, she glanced upwards, just once through her tears, and saw they were gone. She collapsed in on herself, sobbing, unable to stop the shake of her hands or the tears rolling down her face. They’d left the phone here, she knew, because she heard the shrill ringtone cut through the night air again. She shivered against the cold, her top now torn, and with numb fingers, she crawled over to where her phone was lying on the pavement. Jughead had called again. Her vision blurry with tears, she opened the phone to where it had been left off.

On the screen was a picture of her, eyes wide and track marks down her face, and she cried out again when she recognised the look of sheer terror on her own face. She scrolled, reading the caption Penny had sent with it.

**We got to your whore. Does she spread her legs like this for you, too?**

Betty couldn’t help it. She heaved, emptying the contents of her stomach in front of her, before falling backwards and scooting away from it. She tried to stand, once, but found her legs wouldn’t take her weight, and so she stayed in the alleyway, phone in hand, shock taking over her like a drug. Again, she felt her phone ring in her hand. Jughead’s name flashed across the screen. Numbly, without thinking about it, she thumbed the green button and put the phone to her ear, sobbing out his name, feeling a sharp sting in her throat.

“Betty, Betty, where are you? Please, God, are you okay?” She couldn’t reply, her voice too rough and her throat too sore to vocalise anything properly. So she continued to cry, hiccupping out a “near my building.”

Through the receiver, she heard someone gunning an engine, and heard Jugheads voice in her ear, speaking frantically. She was in shock. She couldn’t respond, even if she wanted to. And so she sat in the alley way for what felt like hours – it could have been, for all she knew. All she knew was she wanted Jughead. And finally, Betty heard the sound of running footsteps, and looked up to find three figures hurtling towards her, she felt another jolt of fear and scrambled backwards, away from them.

She stopped though, when one of them rushed to her side, sliding to his knees and arms going around her, protective and warm. She recognised his voice instantly, collapsing against him and gripping on for dear life, sobbing as a fresh wave of relief hit her, and she buried her face into his chest, whimpering.

“Betty, shh, Betty, Betty. I’m so sorry.” He whispered in her ear, holding her tighter than ever.

To the other figures, then, “We need her out of here.” His voice held a tone of something she had never heard before, and it made her heart hurt. She lifted her head, tried to talk, but it came out as an indecipherable croak and she cried even harder through the pain. Jughead hauled her fully into his arms then, and in the dim light she saw the expression on his face. She had never seen pure fury on anyone’s face before, let alone his. His eyes looked black, murderous, and she cringed, knowing it was her own fault for causing this mess.

She felt herself being carried somewhere, and after while she was placed in a car – not Jugheads – and felt him climb in behind her, never losing contact with her. The door was shut, then, and they were off, where to Betty did not know. She knew she was exhausted, but her sobs had subsided with the knowledge that she was safe – Jughead was here, and she was safe. He kept touching her, eyes still black, and she worried her lip, knowing he would be angry with her. She reached up then, to touch his face, and he looked down at her, frowning.

“I’m sorry,” she managed to say in a croaky whisper, as she blinked away more tears. He closed his eyes, then, and held onto her tightly, turning to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Baby, please. It’s not your fault. Please don’t blame yourself.” And it was then that Betty really looked at him. Tears were shining in his eyes, and he kept closing his eyes, as if to fight them off. His hands were shaking, even as he clenched his fists. She tried to talk again, to comfort him, but he shushed her quietly, telling her to rest her voice.

And so Betty sat, dizzy with exhaustion and weak with terror. She looked in the front seat, recognising Sweetpea, who’s expression was just as murderous as Jughead’s had been in the alleyway. She felt small, weak, pathetic. Sweetpea pulled the handbrake then, turning in his seat to stare at her, before his gaze drifted to Jughead.

“We’re here.” Was all he said, but it was enough to spur Jughead into action again. He grabbed Betty, one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders, and pulled her from the car like she weighed nothing. Jughead had followed Sweetpea down another alley – Betty hid her face in Jughead’s neck – and to a set of doors that looked like they’d be locked from the inside. Sweetpea halted then, knocking once, and the doors opened so quickly that Betty didn’t even have time to blink. They were ushered inside, and the door shut softly behind them with a barely a click. They continued to a room, then, heading down a hallway to the left, where she was deposited on a bed that was even softer than the one she had at home. She clung to Jughead, not wanting to let him go, and he sighed before turning to Sweetpea.

“Can you get us a first aid kit, then leave us for a bit?” His voice held so much misery that tears welled in her eyes again. _Why couldn’t she stop crying?_

Sweetpea came back briefly with a green bag, handing it to Jughead before touching him on the shoulder, just once, and left without so much as a goodbye. Jughead rose, turning to lock the door behind him. Betty sat up, more alert now that she knew she was safe, and felt the pain settling in since the adrenaline and fear had worn off. She brought her knees to her chest, unsure, and stared at Jughead as he sat down on his haunches, face in his hands, breath coming long and slow. He was the first of them to speak.

“Betty, please be honest with me. Do I need to take you to a hospital? Did he…” He couldn’t find his voice, struggling to say the word. She knew, though, and reached out for him to hold her.

“N-no, Jug, he didn’t r-rape me.” She whispered, pain shooting down her windpipe as she spoke. Her voice sounded alien to her own ears, hoarse and throaty, and she winced. He collapsed then, letting his breaths come quick and fast as he grabbed her and held her to him, rolling over on the bed until they were pressed together in every way possible. He murmured into her hair as he fought off his panic, eyes closed, and she felt him struggle to breathe deeply and evenly.

“I was so, so scared. Please don’t do that again. I couldn’t take it if they hurt you again.” She held onto him, feeling awful at not being able to comfort him fully, but carded her fingers through his hair, pressing kisses to his chest. Eventually, he calmed down, and she let herself relax against him, knowing the worst of it was over. She tried to speak again, but he felt her shift and sat up, staring down at her for the first time since he found her. His eyes widened in shock as he took her in. She felt uncomfortable, and squirmed under his gaze.

“What?” She managed. His face had gone murderous.

“If I wasn’t going to kill them before, I sweat to fuc-“ He stopped suddenly when she whimpered, regret tinged on his face.

She blinked up at him, eyes wide, silently asking what was wrong. He understood.

“Your neck.” He ground out. She stood, then, rushing to the small bathroom that adorned the room, staring at herself in the mirror. She looked awful. Eyes puffy, hair a mess, and skin pale and sallow. But the horror that grabbed her full attention was the terrible bruise that spanned her neck, swelling and getting blacker by the minute. She couldn’t look away from herself, even as tears welled in her eyes from the memory of being choked so violently. Jughead stood in the doorway, eyes black.

“You need ice.” He murmured, breaking open the instant icepack he had obviously gotten from the first aid kit. He grabbed the handtowel from the railing, and wrapped the pack up in that, before padding over to her and holding the icepack to her neck, very gently. She leaned back against him, and he clutched her to him, tightly. She wanted to tell him that she was okay, really, now that he was with her. She could only turn to him, though, trying to convey everything with her expression. She realised then, now that she had a clear head, that she possessed vital information about the two who had attacked her. She tugged on Jugheads shirt, eyes wide.

“Jug.” She managed to croak. “Important. Two of them. I have names.” Speaking in short sentences made it easier on her throat, but the seriousness of the information she had couldn’t be delayed. He froze, realising what she was telling him.

“Betty, what? What names? There were two?” He led her back to the bed, sitting her down. She went with him willingly, hoping to help in any way she could. Jughead sat opposite her, on a small desk chair she hadn’t noticed before, and took her hands, eyes trained on her. She swallowed.

“Names. Penny. Jordan. Wanted to know – “ she paused, wincing through the pain. “To know the address. She choked me – when – when I said I didn’t know.” Remembering the way the man had touched her, she shivered. “The man – tried to…to touch…me…but she stopped him.” She swallowed, trying to ease the pain on her throat, before looking back up at Jughead. Suddenly, she remembered Penny’s warning, and gripped Jughead’s hands even tighter.

“Jug. They got to the truck. They planned it.” Jughead, previously rooted to the spot, stood suddenly, shoulders tense.

“Is that all you can remember? I need to go and tell – I need to go tell someone.” Betty nodded in response, unsure whether she’d done the right thing. He leant forward then, pressing a long kiss to her forehead.

“You did so well. You were so brave to remember all that. I’m proud of you, baby.”

She nodded, sleepy now that the important stuff was over. Jughead paused, before guiding her backwards gently, so her head hit the pillow. He kissed her again, this time on the mouth, and whispered for her to sleep, he’d be back later and that he wouldn’t leave her again, not tonight. She fell asleep before he even left the room, a restless and fitful sleep that gave her no comfort.

\--------------------------------------

She woke up a few hours later, after a dream of being slowly suffocated and a pair of evil, cold eyes. She was sweating, with Jughead curled up behind her, grip tight. She struggled a little, and he let her go immediately. She looked around drowsily, heart still racing.

“Jug, I think I need a shower.” Betty whispered. She rolled over to face him, only to have him wide awake, watching her with soft eyes. She blushed in the darkness. Jughead sat up then, and rolled off the bed to the desk.

“I thought you might say that at some point. I don’t have any girls’ clothes here, apart from Toni’s. but her bedroom’s locked. Anyway, these should fit. There’s soap and stuff in there.” She took the towel that he handed to her, giving him a warm smile, before reaching for him. She didn’t want to be away from him right now – the thought made her stomach twist.

“Will you come with me?” She mouthed at him, and he stared at her lips, trying to read them. He looked up at her eyes again, and nodded in response, eyes serious. Both of them stripped down once they got to the bathroom, Betty’s eyes sliding to Jughead when he threw off his shirt. He raised an eyebrow at her, shaking his head playfully, as she eyed him shamelessly. He was so beautiful. She tried to take off her shirt, but the buttons were ruined – so she lifted it over her head, feeling Jughead’s hands on her arms, helping her. She was careful not to touch her neck, knowing it would still be sore. He discarded her shirt completely, throwing it in the trash, and she didn’t protest. She never wanted to see that shirt again. Jughead turned, then, to the shower and twisting the handle, warming up the flow of water as it cascaded down the tiles. While his back was turned, she quickly undid her bra and let it flop down beside her. She felt the beginnings of steam hit her skin, and she quickly undid her jeans and let them fall to the floor, stepping out of them. She let her underwear fall to the ground, too, unable to meet Jughead’s eyes again, suddenly shy.

He stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm.

“Betty, look at me.” He spoke softly, with a tone in his voice she didn’t recognise. She looked up at him anxiously, noticing he hadn’t taken off his pants yet. He took a step closer to her, and put a hand under her chin. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.” Regret laced his voice, and she immediately threw her hands around his waist.

“Juggie,” She managed. “No…not you. Not your fault.” She croaked, begging him with her eyes to not blame himself. He stared at her for several long moments, before he sighed and nodded.

“C’mon. Let’s get clean.” He told her, undoing his own jeans and shaking them off. He was wearing boxers this time, and she couldn’t help but stare, grin forming on her face. He looked to the ceiling, exasperated. “I’m showering with a child.” His face shone with amusement, though, and she would have laughed if she could have.

“You’re…hot. Not my…fault.” She managed through her grin, ignoring the pain flaring in her throat. He froze, before he grinned full force, stepping one more step towards her and whispering in her ear.

“You haven’t seen yourself, then. You’re so pretty, baby, and you're  _mine_.” He sighed, running a hand over her hair. 

Her face was now an unattractive shade of firetruck red. _Thanks, Jug_.

He gestured to the shower, then. She took a cautious step in, but on finding the water to be perfect, let herself be immersed in the flow. She wet her hair, massaging her scalp before she opened her eyes again, finding Jug watching her from the shower door. She grabbed his arm and pulled, and he hesitantly stepped into the shower with her. Together, they washed the events of the night off their skin, and Betty felt her stress and anxiety flow down the drain like the dirt off her skin. She felt like she could really breathe again, after washing of the man’s touch, and replacing it with Jughead’s. After she’d washed her hair, using his shampoo, he kissed her once, on the shoulder, letting out a soft groan. She wiggled against him in response, teasing, before turning and shutting the water off with a sigh. She could’ve stayed there all night. After they were both dressed again – a hard task, because they both kept getting distracted by each other – Jughead had gotten back into bed, pulling back the covers this time, and jerked his head for her to join him. She hesitated, the shirt she was wearing too big, but decided that she really did feel tired. She hopped in, snuggling up against him, and closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of him leech into her skin. His arm wrapped around her waist, securing her, and he breathed deeply before whispering a soft “goodnight, Betty.” She returned the sentiment, before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

\-------------------------------

The second time Betty woke up, it was naturally, and she stretched out, yawning, before remembering where she was. Jughead was nowhere to be seen, and she panicked for a split second before she saw the note on the pillow beside her. Just ducked out for a second. Be back soon. It made her smile. Betty rolled over, searching for her phone, groaning softly when the movement jolted her neck. This is going to hurt like a bitch for a while. She barely opened it to check the time – 7:34am – before a knock sounded at the door. She sat up, carding her fingers through her hair, and yawned again when the door opened.

Jughead’s face appeared through the crack of the door, looking apprehensive, before his expression cleared once he saw she was awake. He smiled, then, stepping inside and letting his eyes rove over her body.

“Morning, baby.” He said. “How are you feeling?”

Betty assessed herself. She didn’t feel sore anywhere apart from her neck and her shoulder, and she tried to clear her throat, testing her voice.

“A bit better.” She rasped, feeling the action didn’t hurt as much as it had last night. The swelling must have gone down. “What about you?” His face darkened, just for a second, before he sighed.

“I’m okay.” Was all she got from him, and she frowned, worry creeping into her chest. He walked over to her, taking both hands in his. “Would…would you be up to meeting with a few people, just to tell them what happened? It would be my father…and one of his seconds…second in command I mean, sorry.” He clarified when he saw her confusion.

She was silent for a moment, pondering. Was she ready? Was she brave enough? She shook her head to clear it.

“Well, if I can make it through last night, this won’t kill me.” She meant it to come out across as a joke, but his face crumpled, eyes closing tight. It made her feel guilty instantly.

“Jug,” she whispered, and he opened his eyes again, misery evident in his baby blues. “I’m sorry. I trust you.” He inhaled through his nose, and exhaled slowly out of his mouth, but nodded, face clearing just a little. And so Betty, dressed in Jughead’s shirt and a pair of black shorts that didn’t quite fit her small frame, with no makeup and hair falling in unruly waves down her back, followed Jughead out the door and through a small hallway to an archway in the wall. She padded along barefoot behind him, fingers playing with the back of his shirt. They reached a room, where the faint smell of cigarette smoke permeated the air, and two lounge chairs sat side by side. There was a table in the middle of the room that held an ashtray and a book, of which she couldn’t quite read the title. Two figures sat on barstools, back to them, as they faced the TV in the corner of the room.

One of the figures, a tall, lean man with salt and pepper through his hair, had a hard gaze that Betty could tell was exactly like Jugheads. _That must be Jughead’s dad_. The other figure, a man with long black hair, had slouched shoulders and an air of arrogance about his that Betty instantly disliked. She was startled from her assessments when Jughead cleared his throat, and they both turned around at the same time, meeting her doe eyed, fearful stare. She took a step back, biting her lip reflexively.

“Dad, Tall Boy, this is Betty.” Jughead introduced them, pointing them out as he said their names. Betty forced a smile on her face, nodding her head at them respectfully.

“Nice to meet you.” She said, trying to keep her voice normal. Jughead’s father stood, then, posture stiff and angry as he looked Betty up and down, before sending a glare towards Jughead that would’ve made Betty shrivel up.

“What the hell do you think you were doing, Jughead? Getting involved with a girl like this?” Jughead stood in front of her then, immediately on the defensive. “Shit, Dad, _not now._ She needs to talk to you about what happened. That’s it. Okay?”

Anger flared in her chest, and she frowned, not liking where this conversation was going. She had been through a lot already, dammit, and didn’t expect sympathy. But to throw Jughead under the bus was _unacceptable._

“Excuse me, Mr. Jones. If you’d let me explain, you’d know the _real_ story.” She let the annoyance leech into her voice, still rasping out her words, and stood up as tall as she could – she barely made it to Jughead’s shoulder. She stepped around Jughead, facing the older Jones and set her lips in a firm line.

Jughead stiffened beside her, staring down at her in shock, but she didn’t let her eyes stray from Mr. Jones’s glare. The taller man, realising she wasn’t going to back away, shook his head in annoyance, and reached up to rub his forehead.

“Call me FP. Mr Jones makes me feel old.” He grumbled out, frowning. He then gestured to the two lounge chairs, indicating she should sit. She looked up at Jughead for guidance then, and he nodded, still looking as if in shock. He followed her, though, and sat down on the arm of the chair beside her, not letting her go. FP took a seat in the other chair, glancing up at Jughead one last time with a look she couldn’t quite decipher. He then levelled a steady gaze on her, although it didn’t make her nervous like she thought it would. She met his gaze steadily, before he spoke.

“So, Betty. Tell us what happened last night.” Betty took a deep breath, and began, her hoarse voice sounding ridiculous to even her own ears.

“I was bussing it home, because Jughead’s truck broke down.” She glanced at him. “I made it all the way to the last stop, and when I got off, someone put a rag over my head, and dragged me into an alley. Which one, I’m not sure.” She paused, recalling what happened after that. “They let the rag go, then, and I saw two people. One male, one female. The male’s name was Jordan. The female – he called her Penny. She was…” Betty shivered. “She asked where the Serpents hideout was. I said I didn’t know. That’s when…” She trailed off, touching her throat and wincing at the memory. “That part is hazy, they choked me until I nearly passed out…and then,” She stopped, unsure, leaning back into Jughead for support, and feeling tears wanting to pool in her eyes but she blinked them back.

FP had been silent the whole time, but now his eyes were angry for a different reason, Betty suspected. He was watching her every move, and although she felt unsure, she felt as if she could trust this man. Maybe it was the familiar baby blue of his eyes.

“Go on, Betty.” FP encouraged softly, shifting his weight a little. She forced herself to continue, to just say the words because they were just words. “Then I started crying, and…the man _licked_ me,” she squeaked, “and asked Penny if he could…” she trailed off. “…because he loved it when they cry.” She remembered how he’d been hard, rocking himself against her. “He was hard…” She didn’t need to continue, because FP had reeled back in disgust, looking up at Jughead with an expression so dark she could’ve sworn looks could kill.

Betty continued, on a roll now. It somehow felt like a relief to say all this out loud.

“But then Jughead called, and Penny saw my phone. So she took the photo, and sent it to him, when she realised that I didn’t actually know anything. And then she grabbed Jordan and left.”

FP hesitated. “What photo?” He asked. Betty was avoiding looking at Jughead, for fear of what she’d see on his face. She didn’t like it when he was angry.

FP reached out to grab Jughead’s phone, glancing at the photo and the caption, before tossing the phone onto the table, revulsion on his face. It was quiet for about thirty seconds, before Jughead reached around her and pulled her back to him, rubbing her arms softly, and placing a kiss on her head.

FP watched them, eyes calculating, before he stood, gesturing at Tall Boy and Jughead.

“I’ll need to talk to you two for a minute.” He said. “Betty, you wait here.” He finished, as if she’d be able to wander off and not get lost. And so she watched as they all trailed out of the room, eyes downcast. She fiddled, idly watching some football match on the TV for five minutes, maybe ten, before Jughead came back in, looking miserable.

“Hey, Betty. Look…” he watched her, stiff and tense. “Myself, Tall Boy, and Sweetpea have to go. I think the less you know the better, but…Dad thinks a meeting between me and the…I mean, our rival gang…could be enough to intimidate them.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I really don’t want to leave you, but I have to go. There’s no one I trust more than my father to watch over you. Are you…comfortable…with that?” He hedged, tone frustrated but eyes full of worry. Worry for _her._

She got up, striding over to him, reaching around his neck to pull his face down to hers. Anxiety welled up in her throat, but not for her own safety – for his.

“If you do this, please, please be safe. Okay?” She pressed a kiss to his soft lips, and they moulded around hers in a sudden desperation. She was the first to pull away, breathless.

He looked straight into her eyes, lips back in a hard line.

“If you need anything, Dad should be able to help. I’ll miss you. Hopefully I wont be gone long.” And he tore his gaze away from hers, slowly backing away, before he turned and walked out the door.

She stood there, empty feeling in her gut, and not fully knowing what to do, when FP strode back in, two mugs of black liquid in his hands, and a new toothpick hanging from his mouth. From the start, it was clear that the leader of the Southside Serpents wasn’t her biggest fan, and she was determined to change his mind. He entered the room again, carrying two mugs, and shutting the door behind him with his foot.

“What was he thinking, going after a girl like _you.”_ FP sounded bitter and annoyed, not even bothering to look at her as he sat down, handing one mug over to her. She thanked him softly.

“What do you mean?” She asked quietly, already on the defensive, and not scared of this man, the man who raised Jughead. Daring herself not to feel any fear, she sat up straight in her chair.

He glanced at her, then, and rolled his eyes, a smirk sliding into his face that she recognised with a jolt.

_He looks like Jughead when he does that._

“You’re way out of his league, kid. In every way. He put you in danger.”

Betty bristled, suddenly defensive of Jughead, and shook her head vehemently, eyes narrowing.

“I’m not. It’s not his fault we’re together.” She said fiercely, determined to prove to this man that they were meant to be. He straightened at that, mirth in his eyes, as he clicked his tongue playfully.

“Oh? And why is that?” He chuckled out, toothpick rolling around in his mouth. She hesitated, not having fully thought this through. He shook his head at her lack of response, and started to turn away.

“I’m a nymphomaniac.” She blurted out, and as he turned back around, startled, she felt an intense blush was over her face, and she bit her lip apprehensively.

 _That was the stupidest thing you have ever said, Betty_.

But instead of rolling his eyes, FP let out a shocked laugh, and rubbed the back of his head in amusement. He met her eyes, a youthfulness overtaking his face as he smiled, and spoke again.

“God, you know what? I suddenly like you, kid. Poor Jughead.” He laughed again – fully this time, shaking his head, and sat back down in front of her, sipping on his coffee.

She relaxed, then, smiling despite herself. FP Jones, like this, was likeable. He reminded her so much of Jughead, and told him as much. He stopped laughing, then, but continued to smile at her.

“He’s his fathers son.” He agreed easily, and gestured to her coffee. “Now drink up, before it goes cold.”

After that, FP seemed to like her just fine. She needed a laugh after the events of yesterday. She spent her time alternating between watching the TV – the game was still on – and bribing FP with childhood stories of Jughead. There were some _doozies,_ she thought with glee, now having a full arsenal of teasing material for Jughead. A thought occurred to her then.

“Hey, FP. What’s Jughead’s real name?” FP grinned back at her.

“You mean he hasn’t told you yet?” The older man’s eyes were swimming with humour when she shook her head no. “If I tell you, do you, Betty, swear that under pain of death, you never let him know it was me who let it slip?”

She giggled, and straightened in mock seriousness, nodded and saluting. FP sighed, shaking his head.

“Well, FP stands for Forsythe Pendleton, the second. That’s Jughead’s real name. It’s a family one.” He shrugged.

“Oh my god,” Betty rasped. “That is amazing.”

FP chuckled again, not disagreeing, and they shared brief eye contact, grinning at each other like maniacs. 

After that, they settled into comfortable silence, Betty dozing off every now and again, feeling peaceful.  _I really like FP Jones,_ she thought drowsily, smiling to herself. 

\-----------------------------------------

Suddenly, all at once, her peace was broken.

Jughead came back three hours after he left. He ignored Betty, going straight for his father.

“Dad,” His voice shook, and it was then that Betty saw the blood trail down his check from a cut over his eye. She straightened, instantly awake, and stood up, walking over to him, dread and guilt forming a ball in her stomach. FP, to his credit, remained calm, but stood to face his son.

“Jughead. What happened?” His tone held a tenseness, going hard and emotionless, and for the first time Betty understood why they called him their leader. He looked truly intimidating.

“Dad, I failed. They were angry. They…” His eyes found Betty’s, pain, misery and guilt swimming in their icy blue depths. Betty’s breath froze in her throat, and she stood, rooted to the spot in fear.

“I think we’re at war.”


End file.
